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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.
The vampire and the Slayer. Mortal enemies walking side by side down the sun filled street, each deep in their own thoughts. To anyone who would see them, they radiated barely controlled power that threatened to overwhelm the small town.
Spike was in a pensive mood as his thoughts turned to the young woman next to him. He had returned to Sunnydale after a failed attempt to get Drusilla back, intent on destroying the one thing that caused his breakup with the female vampire. The Slayer. Things, however, seemed to have a way of going disgustingly wrong.
He had wanted to harm her, humiliate her, reduce the pain in his own undead heart. What had planned on being a simple forced encounter turned into something entirely different the moment he touched her.
As his hands skimmed along her smooth skin, the warmth of her body titillated him, arousing him to painful proportions. At first, the Slayer did not resist, which his surprised him. She had not even been afraid of him, only annoyed. It wasn't until he sank his fangs into her delicate skin had fear come into play.
Spike looked at her from the corner of his eyes. Her face was a countenance of anger and depression, her head down as they continued the journey to her house.
Buffy's thoughts were on a similar track as the vampire's, going round and round about the events of the past night. She was still furious at him for what he had done, but equally furious at herself for being so careless, for not seeing him as a threat until too late.
The rape itself had been more of an emotional violation than a physical one. Buffy had not been touched in a long time, and the feel of his cool fingers on her warm skin brought back memories, memories of a love she had to put behind her. Yet, the touch was different, not timid as if she would break. And she enjoyed it.
When she came back to consciousness those feelings assaulted her, driving Buffy to her knees in tears. But she could not hold onto her anger at Spike for his physical actions. He had done it to get back at her, completing the circle of pain and misery she started on her seventeenth birthday. Her anger was focused on the prophecy and on the universe itself, for her being the Chosen One.
They arrived at her house and Buffy turned to him at the front door. "Why don't you stay out here in the sun a little longer. I'm going to talk to my mom, then take a shower and go to bed."
Spike nodded, dug out a cigarette and lit it. As she went inside, his mind turned to the dimensions of the house, calculating the distance from his position to the kitchen and Buffy's bedroom. He wanted to see how far he could go before the pain started.
It turned out it was not only distance, but time.
*****
"Hi, mom," Buffy said wearily as she entered the kitchen. Joyce was sitting at the island counter, a mug of tea in her hands.
"How are you feeling?" Joyce asked as her daughter sat down.
"Angry, sad, hurt, depressed, and tired," Buffy answered. She rubbed her temples, preparing for a hard talk with her mom. "What did Giles tell you over the phone?"
"Only that a new prophecy had been found and that you wanted to come home," Joyce said. "He said you would fill me in about it."
Buffy nodded and took the crumpled copy out of her pocket. She handed it to her mom. Joyce read it, but did not understand what it meant. She gave her daughter a confused look. "I'm not up on my prophecy translation skills..."
Buffy chuckled, the first sign of actual levity to her day. "It's ok, mom. Prophecies are usually obscure. To break it down into layman's terms, I am the 'light,' Spike is the 'darkness,' and we're bonded together until I die for the child."
Joyce gasped at the mention of death. "What do you mean you'll die?"
Buffy shrugged. "Dead, mom, as in no longer living. It's not the first time it's happened."
"I don't see how you can be so casual about it," Joyce said.
"I'm not. I'm furious, but that doesn't change the outcome," she replied.
Joyce stared at her daughter, shoving her emotions aside until later. "Tell me how Spike comes into this."
"He's the idiot vampire who got me into this mess," Buffy said. "But that's neither here, nor there. What you need to know is that because of the bond, we have to stick together. Which means he'll be staying here indefinitely." She stood and hugged her mom. "I'm going to take a shower, then try to get some sleep."
"Ok, dear," Joyce said. She watched as her daughter walked slowly out of the kitchen. "I love you."
"I love you, too, mom," Buffy replied, giving her a small smile. She went up the stairs, striping as she walked, and climbed directly into the shower. She tried to wash all that had happened off of her skin, but only succeeded in rubbing herself raw. Wincing, she toweled herself dry, then climbed into her bed praying that sleep would quickly overtake her. When it finally did, it was to a dull pain that had started to form in her side.
*****
Spike had stayed out front, smoking and squinting in the sunlight until he felt the pain start once more. With a curse, he stood and entered the house, not bothering to knock.
Joyce had heard the front door open. She walked to the kitchen doorway to see Spike standing in the sunlight and let out a shocked gasp.
"Hello, Joyce," Spike said, closing the door behind him. "Where's the Slayer?"
"How...you..."
Spike sighed. "Didn't she tell you?" At Joyce's negative response, he tried to patiently explain, but the pain in his side was starting to increase. "We're bonded. That means if we're not near each other, it hurts. It's bloody annoying."
"But the sun..."
"Oh, the sun thing. Part of the charm of the prophecy. I get to go out in it," he answered. "First time in two hundred years." He shifted uncomfortably and put a hand to his side. "Bloody hell. Where is she?"
"Her room," Joyce answered.
Spike nodded and went quickly up the stairs. He'd been to her bedroom once before, when the Witch needed the spell book she'd left here. Opening the door, he stepped inside and was immediately relieved of the pain.
Buffy lay under the covers, a frown marring her face in her sleep. Grumbling to himself, he pulled the desk chair to the window, then sat. With his feet propped on the sill, he stared outside, trying to relax his hyper body. He felt like he was trapped in the wheelchair again, and didn't like it.
Joyce came to the open door and looked in on the two. She was relieved to note that Spike hadn't hurt her daughter. "Can I get you anything?" she asked.
"No," Spike replied, not turning his head. Then he sighed and rubbed a hand over his handsome features. "Wait, Joyce," he said, shifting his gaze to the woman still in the doorway. "It looks like I'm going to be staying here awhile and I'd rather not be on your bad side." He gave her a smirk. "After all, you're pretty handy with an axe."
Joyce nodded and smiled. "I'd appreciate that. I'll start clearing out the spare room for you."
"Thanks, " he said. She nodded again, then left the doorway. Glancing at the clock, Spike realized that he'd been awake for quite awhile but did not feel the raging bloodlust he normally did from not feeding. He pondered over this as his eyes returned to the window.
The ringing of the phone broke into his thoughts. He heard Joyce answer it, then footsteps as she came up the stairs. She entered the bedroom, gave Spike a smile, and went to wake Buffy.
"Buffy, Willow's on the phone," she said, shaking her daughter.
"Tell her to drop dead," Buffy mumbled, pulling the covers over hear face.
"I don't think she'd like that, pet," Spike said, looking at the lump on the bed.
Buffy shot up, clutching the sheets to her chest at his voice. He chuckled as she groaned and fell back. "It wasn't a nightmare."
"Sorry, ducks, you're stuck with me," he said.
"Joy," she replied sarcastically. She thanked her mom and picked up the receiver. "Hey, Will."
"Hi, Buffy. How are you doing?" Willow asked over the phone.
"Much better," Buffy answered truthfully. "Nothing better than a shower and a nap to cure you. So, what's up?"
"Spike's now an official student at Sunnydale High," Willow replied with a giggle. "I got him into all your classes and created fake transcripts for him."
"How smart did you make him?" Buffy said. "I hope it's higher than his normal IQ."
Spike glared at her and she smiled sweetly in return. "I gave him the same GPA as you, as well as a few marks on his record, but nothing as drastic as well...you," Willow told her.
This time Spike was the one to laugh as he heard what Willow said. Buffy threw a convenient stuffed pig at the vampire and continued her conversation.
"Great, Willow. Have Giles pull the textbooks for him. Are you going to the Bronze tonight?"
"Do you really think we should?" Willow said.
"Hey, I'm in the mood for some serious fun," Buffy said. "Plus, I can torture Spike at the same time. What more can a Slayer ask for?"
