Out of My
Head
...part
III...
.:Ponciness is an Extension of Poofiness:.
When Buffy woke up the following morning, she felt sated, relaxed and... totally completely astonished. She recalled what had happened last night with Spike pretty clearly (and when she did – recall it, that is – she wound up with a burning blush on her cheeks and a delicate throb between her legs for her trouble.) She couldn’t believe she’d allowed him to get away with... doing that to her.
Not that it was a bad thing. Far from it.
On the contrary -- it felt amazing. She couldn’t fathom some of the things his fingers had done to her, the extra areas he’d found, and the motions his fingers had introduced. Spike had lit an icefire inside of her, making her insides melt, freeze, clutch, and burn all at once. Her eyes flashed and her head fell back as she remembered the feeling of her orgasm. Christ; she could’ve sworn there had been fireworks going off.
Sigh. This was not good. Thinking of Spike was gonna drive her insane. And in her mind, Crazy Buffy somehow just didn’t seem as effective as Sane Slayer Buffy was.
Besides. She had to focus on what she was gonna do about her stupid, self-righteous, overbearing, bossy, controlling, over-protective, bordering right on the freaking edge of becoming an ex, boyfriend.
<< riiiiiiinnnnng!!!!! >>
Speak of the devil.
She sighed heavily and wearily picked up the phone.
"Hello?" she asked. A sharp intake of breath was heard on the other line.
"Buffy?" She sighed. Well, duh; who else would have the misfortune of having to wake up at this hour?
"Hi, Riley," she replied, making sure to keep a cool, curt tone in her voice.
"Buffy. We need to talk." Buffy paused for a minute to roll her eyes. He probably thought he was being the Big Man of the relationship. Bleggh.
"Yeah, we do." Riley gave a soft, relieved breath, and Buffy smirked. He was scared shitless!
"Yeah. So, I’ll come over tonight, uh, around nine. We’ll, uh... talk before you go on patrol. If we can, um, get something sorted out, then I’ll go with you. Good?"
"Sure, good, yeah. See you tonight, then, Riley."
"Okay. I love you." Initiating Buffy auto-response. Set for: LIE, LIE, LIE!
"I love you, too. And I really hope we can work something out, sweetie. I’ll be waiting for you. Bye," she said in a sickly sweet innocent voice – the one Riley enjoyed listening to over (and over, and over, and over again) in bed.
"B—"
<<click>>
Buffy growled as she slammed down the phone and got up to get dressed. Right now, she didn’t love Riley. She was sick to death and pissed off at Riley and ready to cut off his dick. And she wasn’t anywhere NEAR hopeful for a reconciliation. She didn’t get a chance to be angry too often anymore, and she wanted to relish it. And a good way to release anger was either by pounding on Giles, or by hearing what Riley had to say, then beating on him for "training."
Damn.
Well, THAT was a fan-fucking-tastic way to start the day.
Spike grinned evilly to himself as he walked around the upper level of the crypt, barefoot. Ha! He’d brought off the Slayer! And he knew – he knew – that she’d been thinking of him when she came – the upside to a claiming. Even though she hadn’t acknowledged the claim, he’d had her blood. Therefore, without her even knowing it, she was bonded to him. He could sense her every feeling, and hear her every thought, even though she couldn’t sense his feelings, or hear his thoughts. Yet.
That grin had been stuck on his face ever since he’d gotten back to the crypt. After his initial irritation at his poofy attitude toward Buffy last night, his smugness and pride at what he’d done had fully overtaken him. He’d made her scream, cum, and moan – things he never thought would ever happen. Not with her. And that muscle-bound moron of a boyfriend of hers had no fucking clue.
< Yet > he giddily added, rubbing his hands together with a superior smirk on his face. God... he was SO gonna be there when the shit hit the fan.
Hey, the dickhead had it coming. Spike had been put through absolute hell when he’d first discovered the chip, and it was ALL Army Fuck’s fault. Him and the stupid fucking Initiative.
Okay, enough about that. He needed to contemplate his next move in his seduction of the Slayer.
He’d kissed her, and unless she was completely barmy, she had felt the feeling behind it. She’d obviously liked it; Spike licked his lips as he remembered the feel of her lips pressing back fiercely against his. He wondered... well, he’d fingered her now. That had, hopefully, given her a taste of just how damn good he really was. And apparently, his little Slayer was having problems with the big lunkhead, so he was already on his way.
Shit, she’d been so tight. She’d been with three people (and had apparently done it more than once with the latter two; he convulsed slightly and shivered as he imagined Dickhead’s hands on his girl), but her entrance had still been nearly virginal. Hmmm... maybe his next move should be a little... stretch test.
He sat back on the sarcophagus as he imagined what he could do. He would draw her in, make her feel comfortable and safe around him. She’d soon want him enough that she’d go crazy if she weren’t touching him in some way. He’d smile as he watched Buffy kick the prick out of the picture. Then possibly, he’d scent him, find him, and drain... no. His blood was filled with just enough goofy, irregular schoolboy crap that Spike would probably contract whatever it was the boy had stuck firmly up his ass. No, he wouldn’t drain him. Finn’s blood wasn’t even worthy to be on Spike’s hands.
He’d still kill him, though.
Then, finally, once Buffy was fully reassured about him, finally comfortable, and happy, and with him... possibly in the throes of passion... he’d finally kill her.
Good plan. Not the best, but it was all he could work with. The Scooby crew had most likely been told of his little visit to the land of Slayer’s Blood Euphoria. If Buffy hadn’t been completely, fully affected by his claim... and hadn’t jumped in to defend him, or at least calm them down... then, shit, Giles himself was gonna plow in any second now and rip him a new one before he killed him.
Spike’s eyes widened.
< Please let the claim have worked, please let the claim have worked, please let the claim have worked... >
A half-hour later, and he was still chanting the litany. Luckily, nobody had come storming in through the door of the crypt with the flames of hell blazing after them, so he figured he was safe. For now.
Sigh. The only problem with his little scheme was that he was starting to have weird, gooshy feelings for the Slayer. Bad! Bad, bad, bad! Very bad. Especially in his line of business, and most particularly for him. He was the Slayer of two Slayers. And now he was falling for his third – the one he couldn’t kill. The one he wanted to kill.
Didn’t wanna kill.
Did.
Didn’t.
Did.
Didn’t!
Where the hell did his demon stand in this whole damn decision, anyway?!
And what the fuck was wrong with him?
He couldn’t help it though! (insert whine here.) Somehow, he... felt connected to her, and not just by way of her blood. There was something electric in the air whenever he was around her, even a mile within her vicinity. And he was always thinking of her, now. It was blissful and frustrating at the same time. Back when Dru had dumped him, it had been because of his seemingly endless obsession with the Slayer. She was seeing what he couldn’t. She could see the Slayer, invading his thoughts.
And it hadn’t been visions of her death that she had seen.
Buffy smiling. Buffy laughing. Buffy sad. Buffy angry. Buffy dancing (with stupid pals). Buffy being brave. Buffy fighting. Buffy fighting him. Buffy pounding on him. Buffy straddling him. Buffy straddling his cock. Buffy fucking him. Buffy fucking ONLY him. Buffy fucking him a lot. Buffy moaning. Buffy screaming. Buffy cumming. Buffy cumming hard. Buffy cumming hard all over him...
Okay, so Dru hadn't exactly seen the more sexual aspects of those thoughts, but she'd seen Buffy swirling around in his brain, and that had been enough.
But his subconscious had just plopped those images right down, burning the backs of his eyelids, and now he was horny as all get out.
After a moment, he opened his eyes and froze; then shrugged. Eh. He had a while till sunset. A couple of more Buffy-fantasies wouldn't hurt.
He grinned, ran his hand over his taut stomach, then plopped back in his recliner.
Not even a second later, and his jeans were on the ground, his head rolled back, eyes shut, smile on, hands stroking feverishly, hips thrusting desperately.
Sigh... sweet release.
A loud scream pierced the air. Anya, busily rummaging amongst Giles’ belongings, jumped out of her skin (figuratively speaking, of course. You had to be reeeeeeeally careful of what you said on the Hellmouth), nearly dropping an extremely old Tiki ‘god of wine’ statue or something. Turning, she looked over Giles’ couch where she found Willow and Tara with comforting hands on Buffy’s shoulders. Buffy herself had her face in her hands, letting out little whines of unhappiness. Dawn sat across from them, flipping boredly through a research book while raising her eyebrows in amusement at her sister, without lifting her head. Buffy captured their attention once again by banging her head down on Giles’ coffee table and whining. Again.
"I HATE this! Riley is being such a... God, I can’t even say anything bad about him! I KNOW he means well, and I know he wants to help and worries about me, but he nearly died because he wanted to be freaking Superman! I really wanna give him more credit, but the more he interferes, the more he’s liable to die. He thinks he’s the goddamn super-hero; he thinks he has to match me for everything I do! He does NOT get that I just want him to be there for me. I want him to stay behind the scenes, but he wants to be out there so he can protect me, like I can’t fucking take care of myself!"
"Well, he’s got good reason to want to protect you. You are his girlfriend, and he loves you, Buffy. He doesn’t want you to get hurt, ya know?" Willow was trying as hard as she could to understand why Buffy was so pissed at her boyfriend. Really hard.
To think, it had all only started last week. And over what? Spike getting his chip out. That had resulted in the Scoobies’ main couple having their relationship slipping and sliding, and occasionally free-falling downhill.
Spike hadn’t even been seen since then. He was completely incommunicado. Either that, or Riley had gone out against Buffy’s orders and dusted him. She truly, truly hoped that wasn’t the case, because as much of a sinister force as Spike was now without the chip, she liked the Master vampire. Well, save for his (always inevitable) cruel jabs. But otherwise, he tended to be a pretty good listener. He gave good advice, and he really, truly did seem almost human at times. He had feelings, for God’s sake. All in all, Spike was a nice guy when he wasn’t threatening to kill them... although that hadn’t happened in a really long time... oh, and that was another thing. Killing.
There’d been none.
There hadn’t been any reports of Spike going on a psychopathic rampage and killing everyone and everything in sight. Buffy, on a whim, had gone to check out the butcher’s, and received some startling information – Spike was still getting baggy blood there.
Oh. Yeah. And then there was the minor fact that SPIKE HADN’T KILLED BUFFY.
< Yet > a tiny, timid voice inside her mind whimpered. She shrugged off the bad vibes and turned her attention back to Buffy. She was describing the talk she’d had with Riley the day after they found out about Spike’s little bite-an’-slurp.
"... and he had the nerve to say that HE forgave ME for yelling at him last week! Like I’M the fucking bad guy here! I mean... not that Riley’s the bad guy, but... UGH, this is so frustrating! I love him, and I love being with him, and I’m glad he’s here. The thing is, I used to love hearing him talk big and see him take charge when he was coming with me to take out baddies. But now, it’s like... every time he opens his mouth, I just wanna strangle him!" Buffy was nearly in tears. Feeling this way was so exhausting and heart wrenching. And, god, to top it all off, Spike had apparently developed some sort of sexual interest in her, and THAT in itself had thrown her for a loop. Not just a normal loop. Oh, no, this was Spike she was dealing with here. Spike had loops, and Spike’s loops were the kind of loops on a goddamn roller coaster; the kind that tossed you around three or four times until you were completely immobile for fear of puking.
First, there had been his little impromptu grind session with her on the floor of Doctor Overheiser’s office. Then there had been that little incident in her bedroom, when he’d tied her up, lit her on fire, then ignited something even warmer when he’d... kissed her...
She caught her eyes glazing and bolted upright again.
< Whoops, train derailing. Get your thoughts back on TRACK, Buff! >
Just recently, Spike had returned to her bedroom again, with the handcuffs. Two nights ago, in fact. He’d done the exact same things to her. Except this time, it had been extended and a little more... lewd. The image of something long, thick and hard, with shiny, light blue plastic... something that happened to belong to her... popped into her head, and she tried (hard) not to become a ripe tomato. Instead, she turned her focus back onto her griping.
"Seriously, you should’ve heard the condescending tone he was using with me. He was treating me like a four year old, and GOD, I was so ready to just whap him across the room! Who the hell gives him the right to talk down to me the way he did? Just because he’s a freaking psych major, and thinks he knows all there is to know about Buffy Summers... argh...."
Willow didn’t exactly know what to say to her. When Angel had been the problem, she'd somehow known exactly what to do, exactly what to say to try and comfort the Slayer. But now, with Riley... they’d seemed so perfect at first. Now... now it appeared that Riley wanted the active role in what Buffy could or couldn’t do. He wanted to take control and commandeer Buffy’s life. Buffy was beside herself, not knowing what to do. And Willow, for once, had no idea what to do for her.
She hated to say it, but it looked like break-up was imminent in the future. Poor Buffy was aching over the way things were going.
Question was, why did she seem more annoyed than heartbroken about Splitsville?
Fighting.
GOD. The rush of it all. The adrenaline pumping through your system. The blood rushing through your veins. Buffy rolled back on the balls of her feet in excitement as a particularly large vampire approached her, baring his teeth and snarling. He tilted his head, sniffing once. A large smile curled on his face as he recognized her scent. The scent of strength and power. The scent of...
"Mmmm. The Slayer," he hissed through a row of ugly, gnarled teeth.
Buffy grinned back wickedly.
"Compost," she greeted back, then whipped out her stake. Seconds until dusting: ninety and counting.
The vampire barged toward her, and Buffy, scooched to the side, just barely avoiding being bulldozed by the behemoth. Instead of turning around, she cartwheel-ed forward, then flipped once, landing in a crouch, facing him.
And THEN, she rushed him.
The dull thud of skin against skin echoed across the graveyard. Buffy was thrilled. She hadn’t had a good challenge in a while, ever since a certain someone (*coughcough*spike*coughcough*) had avoided her for the past three days. It had already been two minutes and forty seconds since they’d begun, and Buffy wasn’t planning on ending it any time soon.
Apparently Big, Gross and Burly had other plans. He grabbed Buffy by her neck, lifted her up and slammed her down painfully hard onto a large, flat tombstone. Buffy moaned softly from the pain. Fuck... if that hadn’t broken her back, then it at LEAST had to have cracked some ribs. This could prove to be bad.
Still, she got up and continued to fight. < Ever the trooper, Buff. >
Right hook, left upper cut, roundhouse kick, quick right jab, knee to the groin. Hah, that always got th--
Whoa. She hadn’t expected that.
Suddenly, she was flat on her back, looking up at the sky, with a big, heavy vampire on top of her, lowering his face to her neck. She tensed and bucked roughly, letting out a whimper of displeasure. She felt something cloudy surround her immediately, covering her with a powerful haze and suddenly, the vamp bolted straight up, staring at her almost in fear. He got up to run and made it about five paces before a swish of green and brown dashed past her.
And then he was dust.
Buffy sat up and looked around in confusion until she found her savior. Then sighed in annoyance as Riley got in her line of sight. He walked toward her with a stern, angry look on his face before grabbing her arm and jerking her up. She let out a cry of pain and grabbed at her ribs, then jerked away from him furiously, glaring with an almost feral look about her eyes. Either Riley didn’t even notice, or her played it off really well. He shook his head.
"God, what is it with you, Buffy? I think you were right about being a vampire chew toy. Only difference is that I think you like it. You can’t seem to get enough of it!" She scowled angrily at the man that had once been the center of her world.
"Oh, yeah, Riley. I just love feeling teeth in my neck and getting sucked away from life. That’s the reason I let Angel, Dracula and Spike all have me, you know. In fact, that’s why I keep Spike around. I’m like his very own little blood tap. If he’d just drank the tiniest bit more, I could be free of this life, and free of you, Mr. Bossy, Controlling Guy!" she finished lamely. Ferocity entered his eyes the minute she had mentioned Angel and Spike. Two vampires that happened to be "related," and who both had an interest in the Slayer. On different levels, of course, but Riley was starting to suspect a common connection working in with the younger vampire. The same sort of connection his Sire had had with Buffy. Buffy lowered her eyes and watched his fists clench and unclench. She looked back up at his face, and saw that his teeth were clenching tightly as well.
"Maybe I should get some vamp to turn me, then. Seeing as how only walking corpses can get your attention, maybe I should get your precious Spike to turn me. Since you seem to like being such a vamp whore --" Her eyes widened, then reacted on instinct, hauling off and punching him brutally in the face. He let out a cry and fell, clutching his nose, his eyes staring up at her in astonishment.
She’d hit him. She’d actually hit him!
"You mother fucker. Get the hell away from me. Leave. Leave before I tear you apart and shove a goddamn telephone pole up your ass! Get the fuck away from me, and don’t you DARE try to talk to me! Don’t talk to me again unless it’s an apology that’s coming out of that fat mouth of yours! You... you disgust me right now, and I have no idea how I could’ve put up with your bullshit for so long. Go!" Riley stared at her, breathing harshly out of his mouth, before his eyes lowered. Talk about the Royal Fuck-Up. This one truly took the cake. He’d reacted too strongly on some strange form of jealousy, and now she hated him. He got up, still holding his nose, and started to walk off. He turned back hopefully when she called his name.
"Riley," she called, tilting her head. "About getting Spike to turn you... Don’t ever joke around about that..." Her expression hardened. "Because Spike wouldn’t even bother to step in your blood, let alone suck it straight out of a jackass like you."
Riley’s eyes widened with hurt, and he turned away again, stumbling out of the cemetery in shock.
No... THAT was the Royal Fuck-Up.
Buffy drew a deep breath and exhaled, closing her eyes. And amazingly, a calm, settling peace washed over her. She smiled. Hah! Who’d’ve thunk it? Breaking it off with Riley had done the trick. She felt more calm and relaxed now than she’d been since Spike had last left her.
Speaking of...
Her neck tingled and a shiver ran straight down her back. She turned around, yelping when she came face to face with the tall, well-muscled bloodsucker. He gently ran a single finger down her bare shoulder.
"Been wondering when you’d get the hint."
He hadn’t been spying on her. Really, he hadn’t. Okay, so maybe he had, early on in the night, but up until around ten minutes ago, he’d been cuddled up in his crypt, trying to watch Nick at Nite. He’d felt something shoot through him, and a warning light go off in his head. The feeling was directly linked with Buffy, and he figured something was wrong, so he’d jumped up and dashed out of his crypt. When he’d gotten to the little clearing, he’d spotted a fat-ass vamp about to chow down on the tiny girl. He’d smirked when the vamp had suddenly sensed Spike's presence, then leaned in and scented the mark, right when the claim took control, protecting her from the oversized blob. The grin had grown wider when Fat-Ass jumped up and ran off in fear.
THEN the grin had shrunk into a frown when he saw that Asshole had taken him out.
The grin had come back when Buffy had decked him, then told him to get the hell out. And by the time Buffy had told him the bit about his blood, Spike’s entire head could’ve been considered one huge, fangy grin. Two thoughts ran clearly and coherently through his head. The first was < About fucking time! >
The second was < GOD, I love her. >
Buffy stared up at the bleached vampire, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat. Spike licked his lower lip. Dammit; he’d wanted to mess with her head a little first, piss her off and tease her a bit. But now... looking at her, all hot and blushy and sweaty and tousled and almost anticipating of what he’d do...
Fuck. Now he was just horny. Hungry, too, but mostly horny. His dick seemed to be doing all of the thinking for him the more he was around Buffy. He pulled her close and flashed her a pleased smile as she gasped. His erection, fully hard and straining, reaching out to her, was nestled firmly against the taut muscles of her stomach. Buffy whimpered softly as heat flooded between her legs. Ohhh, bad. So... so, bad... but good. Oh, good. Oh, god, so good... no, no, no, BAD!
< Come on, Buff, you can control yourself in front of him. Don't let him completely turn you into a big pile of Buffy mush. Don't let him control you. Stay strong. All you have to do is just... stay... strong. >
Spike leaned into her and nuzzled her neck for a moment, placing a kiss softly over her scars. Lifting his head, he kissed her forehead, then led a trail down to her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, and her chin, gently trying to coax her out of the little shell she seemed content to stay in. When she finally let her guard down, Spike grasped the back of her head roughly, and shoved his lips to hers, his unwittingly elongated fangs providing extra brutality in what was otherwise a completely passionate kiss. Buffy let out a sharp, pained, muffled cry and braced her hands against his chest, trying to pull away. When Spike refused to let go, Buffy resorted to violence, and brought her knee up between them.
Spike let out a howl and grabbed his midsection, backing away and staring at her with flashing yellow eyes. And suddenly, he was met with a hard, cruel punch to the jaw, one so powerful that it sent him flying back three feet. He promptly shot up, and let out a vicious growl, launching himself at her and grasping her shoulders tightly, switching instinctively to game face. He cocked his head, smirking at her evilly.
"You’re gonna wish you hadn’t a done that, luv," he growled. Buffy jerked out of his grip, and threw another punch at him.
"The only thing I’m wishing is that I’d dusted you when you came back to Sunnydale, Spike," she spat, punctuating her sentence with a hit to the gut and, as he doubled over, a kick to the back of his legs, sending him down. Spike grasped her leg as he hit the grass and jerked her down with him, catching her completely off guard. He grinned.
"So we’re gonna dance, then, are we, Slayer?" She jumped up before he had a chance to cover her, and executed a kick to the head.
"This isn’t dancing, Bleach Boy. This is me, kicking your sorry ass all over town for the five-hundredth time!" She stood over him and bashed him in the side of the head as soon as he got onto his knees. A complete and utter mistake, as Spike now had easy aim toward her middle and assaulted her with a barrage of punches to the gut. She gave just as good as she got, returning a punch for a punch, jab for a jab, kick for a kick.
Spike was in heaven.
Or as close as he could get, anyway.
He was getting harder by the minute, and was eager to finish the fight so that he could take her back to the crypt and engage in some, uh... Olympic acrobatics.
It was probably a bad idea for his more southern brain to bring that up, because now he was fully distracted. He didn’t even notice it when Buffy somersaulted over his head, landing behind him. He did notice, however, when she kicked him down and shoved his face to the ground. She sat on top of him and dug her knee into his back, grasping his hands and holding him down forcefully (which was probably a mistake; Spike seemed to like that too much.) She leaned down to speak in his ear, and he had to hold back a moan as he felt her small, humble, soft breasts press against him.
"I don’t know what you’ve been thinking about lately, or what weird fixations have been dancing around in your head, but I want it to stop. Now. Whatever this sick fascination is that you have with me, I want you to get over it. No more coming into my room at night, no more chaining me to the bed, no more following me on patrol," she narrowed her eyes, and he had the decency to look sheepish through the un-smooshed part of his face, "no more anything. Don’t toy around with me. I have a job to do, and you’re keeping me from doing it. But for some godforsaken reason, something is telling me not to just be done with you right now. For now, Spike, just back off. Because next time I won’t hesitate to put a redwood through your chest."
Spike let out a quiet growl – much like the one that he’d used to subdue her at the doctor’s – and Buffy instantly quieted down. For some weird reason, she felt chastised and apologetic. From Spike’s growl, he sounded like he was reprimanding her for disobeying him, like a mother would a child.
And abruptly, she yelped as Spike knocked her off of him, then crawled on top of her, holding all her limbs down. His icy fingers ran over her cheek and down her neck as his body settled comfortably over hers.
"Now I know you don’t mean any of that, pet," he replied in a deep, rumbling voice. Buffy avoided his eyes – somehow, she knew that staring into those hypnotic blue pools would immediately incapacitate her. It was a definite weak spot, and a BIIIIIIIIIIG no-no. "I’m sure you know better’n to threaten me. Be a good little chit, or I’ll hafta punish you..." He smiled at her satanically. "Unless you want me to punish you." The tone of his voice indicated that Spike’s idea of punishment was very obviously anything but an actual punishment. He lowered his head to her neck, his teeth sharp and at the ready to pierce her skin. She felt cool, useless air on her neck, and suddenly, she panicked, bucking him off of her and scrambling to her feet. Staring at him, breathing hard and wide-eyed, she raised a finger at him.
"Stay away from me, Spike. I mean it. Leave me alone. I don’t know what’s going on with you, or me for that matter, but I don’t wanna kill you. Don’t give me a reason to." She continued to back away slowly, keeping an eye on him the entire time until she was about ten feet away. Then she spun and bolted away.
Spike growled in frustration as he got up. Dammit! Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT! Now he was hungry and horny, and HE COULDN’T DO SHIT ABOUT IT!
Well, that wasn’t true. He could enjoy a nice toss off right in the middle of the cemetery, but then he might be caught by some big ugly, and that... would be BAD.
But he’d forgotten that he was no longer restricted by the government. He could feed now. He could kill. And he would kill. He’d fucking show that fucking bitch tease just how fucking scared of him she should be.
He wasn’t gonna let his hormones get in the way. Next time he saw her, he was gonna rip her throat out.
Of course, he knew he would never actually kill her. < Leave me to my own fucking fantasies, dammit! > he thought defensively at the rational, know-it-all part of his brain.
Anyway.
He smiled at the comforting thought, then shrugged. He was free now, and apparently wasn’t gonna get any tonight unless he resorted to Harmony, or his own hand. He might as well go get someone to eat.
Walking out of the cemetery and onto the street in a path that led in the direction opposite of Buffy’s home, Spike grumbled, rubbing his stomach. Shit. The little bitch kept getting stronger. That punch had really hurt!
Deciding to try the playground at Sunnydale Elementary School, Spike growled and grinned in pleasure when he saw the inevitable group of teenage kids hanging about and bullshitting around. Stupid kids; most of them had been brought up with rules forbidding them to stay outside in Sunnydale during the night, yet they all still did it anyway. Regular Sunnydale occurrences were quite famous amongst the children who were dumb enough to test the legends.
He walked toward the group and switched on a cool, suave demeanor. Three girls, five boys. All the boys were jock types. Two blonde girls, one brunette. They looked to all be around sixteen or seventeen. Picking up on a sense of nervousness in two of the girls – one of the blondes, and the brunette – Spike turned his attention to the slightly bolder girl. As if sensing him, she turned her head and caught his eye. Her own eyes widened in awe, and took on that dopey love struck look. She bit her lower lip and deftly adjusted her shirt, pulling it down slightly to bear her cleavage. Spike grinned and winked at the little bint; hook, line, and sinker. And all he’d had to do was look at her.
Saying that she needed to go over and check something out (God – er... somebody bless preternatural vampiric hearing) to her friends, he watched her approach the area he’d hidden in questioningly. Stepping out, he gave her a smoldering gaze and tilted his head. It definitely came in handy looking as good as he did. Even if he couldn’t ever see himself.
"Hullo, luv. Whatcha doin’ out here at this time a night?" he questioned, softening his voice and giving his accent a more uppercrest adjustment. He watched as her smile widened at his accent and chuckled to himself. She looked as if she was about to swoon. Stupid bint had no clue what was in store for her.
"Uh, j-just hanging out, w-with my friends, mister." Spike frowned disdainfully.
"Mister. Makes me sound old as all hell get out. Call me Spike." She nodded quickly and swallowed hard.
"Okay... Spike. Um... what are you doing out here all by yourself?" Spike smiled and walked forward, putting his hands on the girl’s shoulders gently. Just before he answered, he shifted into game face and bared his fangs in a wide grin.
"Lookin’ for a midnight snack," he growled. Clamping one large hand over the girl’s mouth as her eyes widened in fear, he dove lightning quick toward her neck, nearly dying (again) from hunger.
He stopped the second his teeth touched her neck, hearing a terrified little whimper escape her throat. Her heartbeat was drumming to an insane beat. Her blood was rushing in her veins, thrumming about in his ears, and driving him wild with bloodlust, but it was that one sound, that one little whimper, that made him stop. Slowly, he pulled away, his hand still over the girl’s mouth, and peered at her through the haze. And as soon as he looked at her, he saw Buffy.
The girl had Buffy’s eyes.
They weren’t exactly Buffy’s eyes, since the Slayer’s were a unique swatch of blue, green, gold and brown all in one with the tiniest hint of violet, but they were close enough as possible to the real thing. And instead of as before, when her fear would’ve delighted him and made him hunger for her more... it made his stomach churn, and he felt sick for what he’d been about to do.
Oh, bloody hell; he felt guilty. Ewwww!
His demon side and human-y side began to battle.
Buffy would hate you if you killed this girl.
But I’m hungry!!!!
You could go to the goddamn butcher's and get some blood from there!
But she’s right here and fresh and warm, and it’s not like anyone would miss her anyway!
That isn't true, and you know it!
But she’s FOOD!
Well right now, what's more important to you? Killing? Or Buffy? You make the choice.
Spike let out a soft groan of disgust, reverting back to his human face. Glaring at the sky, he cursed loudly.
"Since when in the bloody hell did you assholes decide to give me a fucking CONSCIENCE?!" He then sighed and looked sincerely at the girl, peering at her with his beautiful, human blue eyes.
"Get goin’, luv. Don’t stay out at night in Sunnydale. You might run into someone like me that won’t let you go so easy." He tilted his head at her, taking his hand off of her mouth. "Not a word of this to anyone, luv. I might get my ass kicked if anyone found out that ole Spike’s gone soft. I’ve got a rep to maintain," he said, smiling kindly at the girl. The girl nodded quickly, awed and frightened at this monster/man that she’d encountered. She turned to leave, when Spike called out to her again.
"Be careful out here, pet. There’s lotsa nasties runnin’ around. Gather up your chums and get on home, quick as you can." The girl nodded again, then ventured a tiny smile at the vampire. Spike smiled back gently, then made a shooing motion. He felt like he was with the little Bit right now. Hmph. Dawn’s innocence; Buffy’s soul. What a way to bring a man down.
When the girl was gone, he turned and walked toward the butcher’s, shaking his head and growling.
"Bloody ponce, I am... Feeling bad for some dumb kid... Bloody hell! I’ve turned into the poof!"
AN: Oh, and for those of you wondering why I didn’t expand on the second Buffy/Spike handcuff sitch, the reason is simple: Spike is evil. And so am I. Hee.