Chapter Nine

By Tam

“You are going to eat that.”

Buffy stared, completely aghast, at the huge hamburger on her plate. The damned thing was as big around as her face and he expected her to eat all of it?

“I asked for a chef salad with low fat dressing,” she grumbled, lifting mutinous eyes to meet his. She struggled to ignore the savory odors of grilled meat and deep fried potatoes that wafted through the air.

Spike shrugged carelessly. A double order of greasy French fries sat on the table between them and every once in a while the vampire would grab one and drown it in the lake of ketchup on his own plate.



“’S gonna sting like hell when I cram it up your bloody nostrils, Slayer,” he warned.

She refused to even dignify that with an answer. Crossing her arms in front of her, Buffy flung herself back against the cracked vinyl seat and glared at her plate. Her stomach gurgled, begging for just a taste of the succulent looking sandwich. She stubbornly averted her eyes, knowing she was acting beyond childish, but in typical Spike fashion he was bringing out the worst in her.

“Look.” He pushed the fries aside and folded his arms in front of him on the table. “I know for a fact that you’ve had nothing but water since I snatched you. You either eat something or I'll rip out your gullet, stuff it full to bursting with this fattening food, and then shove it back inside you.”

Buffy goggled at him. If his tone had raised the slightest bit towards threatening, she would have blown him off, but his voice remained flat- almost calm- and deadly in its sincerity. His harsh words and callous manner reminded her a little too much of Angel’s cruel actions after she’d slept with him. Granted, Spike was still around after the fact, and it had taken a marauding demon to pry him from between her still-quivering thighs, but she was smarting from his nonchalant attitude after an act that still made her tummy flip just thinking about it. Had it meant nothing to him?

Tears stung her eyes as she begrudgingly snatched up the burger and took a huge bite. Forcing it down over the lump in her throat took some doing but her greedy stomach thanked her for the effort. Miserable or not, her healthy teenage appetite took over.

Spike had to look away to hide his victorious smile as she tucked into her meal. Nudging the glass of orange juice closer earned him another scathing look, although its impact was severely diminished by the fact that her cheeks were packed like a chipmunks with food. Throwing his hands up in mock-defeat, he slumped back into the corner of the booth and tried to ignore her in favor of his own tumultuous thoughts; Dru’s latest assassination attempt weighed heavily on his mind.

He’d hoped that by now she might have calmed down a little, but apparently her ire was just as intense now as it had been the night she’s chased him from their little bungalow. It wasn’t his fault her latest creature feature had taken a shine to him. Spike had made it more than clear to the fungus-draped bloke that he wasn’t his type, but the lust-blinded sod had refused to take no for an answer. The resulting separation of her new playmate’s head from his beefy shoulders had sent his darling girl into a screaming frenzy of teeth and claws.

It was then that he’d hatched his crazy scheme to kidnap the slayer and bring her with him to Brazil. He’d gift his loony sire with the slayer he’d dreamed of making his third, showing Dru once and for all that there came a time when the sainted Miss Edith was wrong!

As if it wasn’t enough that he had a wild-eyed slayer to deal with, he was now obligated to defend himself from the army of demon assassins his love had seen fit to sic on him. It seemed that every demon that had ever crawled between her skinny shanks was after his hide.

“Ow! Bloody hell, Slayer!” he bellowed, suddenly jerked from his reverie by the sharp toe of her boot connecting with his shin. He nursed the injured limb and glared across the table at her. “And just what the fuck was that for?”

Her eyes were sparkling with a mixture of anger and tears as she glowered back at him.

“I asked if it meant anything to you!” she snapped curtly, darting looks of embarrassment around the diner. They were attracting unwanted attention, but right now Buffy could care less.

“Did what mean anything to me?” Spike ducked as the uneaten half of her burger went flying past his head. Okay, his head injury must not be healing as fast as he’d hoped, because now she was looking immeasurably hurt in addition to violently pissed off. Suddenly a light bulb went on in his head and he flinched inwardly. This could get extremely messy if he didn’t utilize an enormous amount of finesse.

“Slayer… Buffy!” he amended hastily at her scowl. “Look here, luv. ‘T was one of the best shags of my unlife. You were bloody amazing,” he offered uncomfortably.

‘Mind-blowing, in fact,’ he thought irritably. Shaking off the intense glow of pleasure that being snug between this girls silky thighs had engendered, he muddled determinedly onward.

“So, yeah. It meant something to me. It was a bloody revelation. But it can’t happen again, can it? I love Dru, and you’ve got this… whole undying romance thing with Peaches.” He couldn’t hide the shudder of distaste that shook him when he pictured the Slayer’s perfect little body rutting with his grandsire.

“Oh, absolutely. You’re right, it can’t happen again,” she parroted his words back at him, her expression blank and completely closed off to his discerning eyes. “I need to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting for his permission or giving him a chance to dog her footsteps, she was up and on her way towards the short hallway in back of the diner.

Spike buried his face in his hands and slumped back against the seat with a tortured groan. Now, on top of the rest of the glorious mess that was his life, he had to come to terms with his changing feelings for the slayer.

On the heels of this revelation came the belated realization that he had just let his hostage go off- on her own- to use the loo. Cursing vilely, he tossed some money on the table and walked quickly towards the front doors.

The State Trooper flirting with the over-endowed waitress at the counter never felt his handcuffs being lifted by the light-fingered vampire.


Buffy hung suspended, her ass hanging outside the narrow window and her top half caught inside. Tears of confusion and frustration streaked her cheeks as she gave another twist of her hips and pedaled her feet against the side of the building.

“Stupid vampire,” she hiccupped. “Like I don’t know that it’s wrong to be all with the cuddlies with my immortal enemy. Ugh!” Another fruitless twist. “I mean, it’s not like I’m hoping for a cozy little tomb with a view. All I wanted to know was if it meant something!”

She shoved back with her hands and heard an ominous ripping sound before flying backwards out the window with a sharp scream.

To land with a soft plop in the strong arms of one extremely pissed off master vampire.

“Goin’ somewhere, sweetheart?” he snarled.

“Yes! I’m going home, so put me down, you ass!” Buffy flailed her arms and legs in a valiant but misguided attempt to be free. Spike did indeed drop her, but not onto her feet. Instead she ended up face down and screeching out her indignation over his lap. He made short work of snapping the pilfered handcuffs on her, effectively immobilizing her with her arms behind her back.

“What the hell are you… AHH!”

His hard palm connected solidly with the curve of her ass. Repeatedly. First one side, and then the other. Buffy screamed and sobbed out her embarrassment at being punished like a recalcitrant four year old.

“You either shut it, or ‘m gonna whip these jeans down and give whoever comes runnin’ to save you a spectacular view of your flamin’ backside, luv!” he warned, applying his hand diligently while she twisted and flopped around like a trout in a net.

“Told you, din’t I?” Spike muttered through his fangs. He was thoroughly pissed off and in full game face while he tanned her bottom with a vengeance. “Told you what would happen if you tried anythin’ stupid and here you are, tryin’ to sneak off and makin’ me chase after your scrawny ass. How do you like that, missy?”

His hand came down extra hard with his last blow and before she could wail out the last of her pain, he whipped her upright and buried his fangs in her throat.

Buffy gasped. This wasn’t like the last few times he had bitten her. This one hurt! She flinched and quivered as he dug his sharp teeth into her, tearing at the soft flesh. His harsh growls and her whimpers of pain were the only sounds in the dank alley.

To her utter humiliation, she felt herself responding to his savage attack, a crippling wave of desire sweeping from her neck to her crotch. And she knew Spike was feeling the same, because he was moaning around her flesh and rocking his hips roughly into her warmth. Buffy fought but it was useless. Her climax burst through her, echoing through her body in a sonata of pure bliss that was only intensified by her vampire lover’s feral grunt of satisfaction.

Her vision blurred, swimming darkly and she cried out in a desperate attempt to get him to stop before he took too much.

“Spike!” she wailed.

The darkness claimed her and she knew nothing more.


He knew she was fine. Her heart was thrumming strongly in his ears as it labored with her slayer healing to replace the blood he had taken.

Spike checked the handcuffs again, making sure they were securely fastened around the iron rails of the bed. The rooms here were much cleaner than the last place. That was one thing she could stop yammering about, at least.

He smoothed her hair back, flinching when the ragged wounds in her neck glared at him. He flung himself away from her with a snarl. He shouldn’t care how savage he had been with her. Hadn’t he told her not to try to run away from him? She deserved what she got- a severely bruised bottom and his teeth marks gaping at her throat.

The pleasure aspect had stunned him as much as it had her. There was absolutely no intent to provide gratification in his bite, but she had gone off like a rocket just moments before he had spilled himself in his trousers like an inexperienced boy.

Baby had a little monster in her. That much was obvious, and to his dismay it called to his demon with a seductive lure that was well nigh irresistible.

Spike growled, hating the confusion that swirled inside him. Hating her, because for the first time in ever he was feeling guilt over his natural instincts as a predator, but more than that he was starting to question his devotion to Drusilla. How could he fall so completely under the Slayer’s spell if he was so in love with his sire?

Desperate for some violence to cleanse his mind, Spike threw open the door and stormed off into the night.