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SUMMARY: Buffy is forced into a prophecy involving Spike. Can they both survive it?
DIST/ARCHIVE: Ask first
DISCLAIMER: Buffy, Spike, and co. don't belong to me, they belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This version has been toned down from it's original NC-17 version for the purpose of posting it on this site. However, it still uses bad language and mature subjects and so is rated PG-15, please read at your own discretion.
Buffy groaned and tried to open her eyes. Her head hurt massively, as if she'd been hit with a ton of bricks. *Wait a minute. That's what did happen,* she thought to herself and groaned again. Forcing her eyes open, she tried to put her hand to her aching head, but found she couldn't.
"What the…" Buffy said, jerking her arms. Her hands were tied above her to the headboard. *Oh, god, I'm tied to a bed,* she thought, struggling against the bonds. She turned to her stomach and knelt, glad that her feet were still free. She began to study the metal handcuffs that adorned her wrists.
"Oh, good. You're up," a voice sounded from behind her. With a feeling of dread, Buffy looked over her shoulder. *Who else would it be?* she asked herself with disgust.
"I thought I told you to get lost and stay that way," Buffy said between clenched teeth. She turned back to her bonds and began to pull against them, looking for a weakness.
"Sorry, pet. I just couldn't resist," Spike said, sauntering casually into the bedchamber. Soft light radiated from an ornate lamp that sat on a small nightstand. The room was decorated tastefully in shades of hunter green and dark gray. Twin chests stood like guards next to a walk in closet. The dark wood of the dressers matched the head and baseboard of the queen sized bed.
"I should have staked you in my kitchen," Buffy mumbled, bending her head down closer to her captured wrists. She should be panicked at her situation but for some reason, she was not. At least, not yet.
"But then we wouldn't get to have any fun," Spike said, his predatory steps leading him closer to his prize. Before Buffy knew it, the vampire was behind her on the bed, arms around her waist and head by her ear. "And I'm really looking forward to it."
Buffy hissed and tried to buck him off of her, but Spike only laughed. He had her at a disadvantage, since she had turned to examine the cuffs. Kneeling behind her, he could control her movements. "Get. Off. Me."
"No," Spike whispered, lowering his lips to her neck.
*****
Spike moved through the dark hallway, avoiding the few minions scattered about the house. When Spike had returned to Sunnydale for the second time, he'd taken the time to pick out a place to dwell, then got himself invited inside and killed the owners.
Entering the kitchen, he opened a bottle of scotch and drank from it. He looked out of the kitchen window into the dark night, deep in thought. It had been relatively easy to capture the Slayer this time around. He sent a few of his minions after her with directions to push her under the construction equipment. Then he dropped a load of bricks on her head.
Simple, effective, efficient. It was only a matter of picking her up and bringing her back to the house. Spike took another swig of the alcohol and felt it burn down his throat. Purposely setting the bottle aside, he spun and stalked back to the bedroom, intent on killing his foe. But when he saw her, her blond hair a sharp contrast to the dark sheets, he couldn't. Something inside was telling him that if she died, he would die, as well.
With a growl, he unlocked the handcuffs and lowered her arms. He went over to the dresser and pulled out a black shirt, then pulled it over the Slayer's unconscious form. Spike brushed a strand of hair off of her face, noting the bite marks on her neck. He frowned again, then climbed into the bed next to her to wait.
Buffy opened her eyes, praying that she had been dreaming. When she saw the hunter green walls, she squeezed her lids shut in pain. It was no dream.
Deciding now was better than never to try to escape, she was surprised to find her arms no longer handcuffed to the bed. She looked down at her raw wrists, noticing she was dressed in a black shirt and under the sheets.
"Hello, Slayer," Spike said, making her jump. He was lying on the bed at her side, watching her. Scrambling away from the vampire as fast as she could, Buffy found herself searching desperately for a stake that had to be with her clothing.
"It's on the dresser," he said, gesturing with his head.
Buffy's eyes shot to his, then looked to where he nodded. Sure enough, the stake was sitting on the dresser. "You do realize I'm going to kill you now," she told him, picking her weapon up.
"I doubt that, pet," Spike said with a smirk.
"Watch me."
Buffy launched herself at the vampire, intent on driving the wood into his undead heart. But at the last second she shifted, the stake imbedding itself in his shoulder. She had come to the same realization that he had earlier. If he died, she would, too.
Spike grunted in pain and threw the Slayer off of him. He grabbed the end of the stake and pulled it out, swearing as blood ran swiftly down his bare chest. Standing, he went over to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer, extracting some gauze and tape. He pressed the white pad to his wound, stanching the flow, and attempted to use his teeth to rip the tape.
Buffy climbed to her feet and went over to him, yanking the tape from his grasp. She proceeded to fix him up, a scowl on her heart shaped face. "You'll live," she pronounced, chucking the tape back into the drawer. "Rotten luck."
He glared at her, then returned to his seat on the bed. Leaning back on the pillows, he felt the pull of sleep as dawn broke over the horizon. "Wait until the sun is fully up before you leave, Slayer," Spike instructed. "The others should be asleep by then."
"Do you know how much I don't care?" Buffy asked him. Tears were starting to form in her eyes and she bit her lip to prevent them from falling. The events of the past night caught up with her and she choked back a sob. "Oh, god."
He eyed her from the bed, not moving to bring comfort as the blond fell to her knees on the floor and began to bawl. Inside, his demon was cheering at her reaction, but the rest of what made up Spike was upset at her, for not being as strong as he thought she was. The pull of sleep was strong, too strong for the master vampire to resist any further, and he let himself drift off into oblivion.
*****
Buffy finally pulled herself together and dressed. She was forced to wear Spike's shirt, seeing as he had torn hers. "That's enough," she scolded herself. "You're tougher than this. You've had worse things happen. Get it together, Slayer, and thank whoever that you're still alive."
After her little talk with herself, Buffy cautiously made her way out of the bedroom and down the shadowy hall. She found the kitchen, thinking it strange that sunlight shined through the window and opened the back door. Stepping outside, she took a deep breath of the fresh, cool air.
Walking quickly, she distanced herself from the house, bypassing her own home in favor of going to the school, which was only a few blocks away. But the further she got away from Spike's lair, the sicker she felt. By the time she entered the library, Buffy was practically hunched over in pain. She collapsed onto a chair, gasping for breath.
"Buffy, what is it?" Giles asked, hurrying to his Slayer's side. He had seen her enter his home away from home, doubled over, clutching her stomach. "Are you ill?"
"It hurts," Buffy ground out. "What did he do to me…"
"What did who do to-to you?" Giles said. He put his hand on her forehead, but she wasn't running a fever.
"Spike."
Giles brought his head up in surprise. "Spike? But-but I thought he was gone."
"So did I," Buffy replied. She moaned as she tried to straighten her body. "But he's definitely here. I have the lump on my head to prove it."
"A lump?"
"He dropped a load of bricks on me," Buffy said. "It was probably the highlight of my night." *That's an understatement,* she added mentally.
"Well, I am glad that you're alright," Giles said. He walked rapidly to his office and returned with one of his many books.
"Let me guess, another prophecy," Buffy said, her voice devoid of any humor. She winced as pain lanced through her mid-section, and hugged her arms against herself protectively.
"Um…yes," Giles said. He found the passage and began to read. "One of the darkness, one of the light, brought together by force one night. An instant in time, a bond created, causing pain when separated. If one does take a final breath, the other shall follow into death. Strengths will be given, weakness taken away, allowing the darkness into the day. Together they shall bring a child of power, but one will die in the final hour. But with this death, the bond broken away, the entire world the child will save."
"Shit," Buffy said.
"I-I beg your pardon," Giles replied, clearly astonished by her language.
"Make me a copy of that," she instructed. Giles nodded and did as asked, handing her the single sheet. "Thanks. I'll see you later." She stood, hunching over, and walked quickly towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Giles called after her.
"To kill someone," Buffy replied, the doors swinging shut behind her.
