4. Preparations
As Buffy and Anya walked back into the living
room, headed toward the kitchen, the anxious blonde vampire tied to the
chair tried to get their attention.
"Hey! If you're gonna be bloody well talking about me, you ought to at
least have the decency to stand where I can hear you! For all I know,
you could have been out there plotting my bloody death, and I'd never
know it!" he pointed out in a heated tone of indignation. The Slayer's
parting words as she had walked outside had worried him more than he
wanted to let on.
But he had never been any good at hiding his true feelings about
anything.
Buffy just smirked at him as they reached the kitchen door. "For all
you know, we were," she agreed in a cool voice of amusement that made
him suddenly apprehensive. "Keeps things interesting, doesn't it?"
"Now wait just one soddin' minute!" he demanded, his unease translating
into anger at its source – the Slayer. "I haven't done a bloody thing
to you since I came to you of my own volition, in a gesture of good
faith, and all you've done is treat me like a soddin' prisoner, which
I've done *nothing* to deserve, so if you're going to threaten my
unlife, the least you can do is do it to my face!"
"The only reason you haven't done anything to us," Buffy reminded him
as her hand came to rest on the kitchen door, "is because you can't.
You've been – neutered." She smiled as she said the word that she had
chosen only because she knew it would get to him.
"Not as much as you'd like to think," he countered with a smirk, quite
successfully covering just how much the use of the word *did* bother
him. "But apparently *you* should be! Got more bloody *energy* than you
know what to do with, don't you, Slayer? I know your type." His tone
was smug, knowing, and he watched for her reaction, knowing that she
knew he meant something else entirely by "energy".
Buffy felt her face flame with embarrassment that he had commented on
her attraction to him, even in such a veiled fashion, in front of Anya.
She was furious with herself more than anything, that her own arousal
that had been building during the – intriguing – conversation with Anya
had given her away.
Still, she was determined to ignore him for now, just to get into the
kitchen and away from his too-perceptive senses – not to mention his
words.
But then – he spoke again, his voice low and mocking. "Like a puppy,"
he mused with a smirk. "Enthusiastic – but a bit clumsy." As determined
as she was to ignore him, he was to not let her.
It worked.
Buffy froze in the doorway, her back still turned to him, and he felt a
sense of satisfaction that he had managed to get to her, finally. Then,
she turned to face him, her eyes narrowed and with a dangerous light in
them – and satisfaction was suddenly replaced with apprehension.
As she slowly approached him, a small, predatory smile on her face, he
tensed in instinctive preparation to react, though he knew that there
was really nothing he could do. The Slayer's eyes flashed fury as she
leaned down in front of him, her face inches from his, meeting his eyes
intently.
"First of all," she said in a tight, angry voice that told him she was
trying very hard to restrain her anger. "You have done *everything* in
your power to deserve the way we've treated you, and worse. You've
tried to kill me countless times, kidnapped my friends, and generally
just annoyed the hell out of me. And as for your little 'gesture of
good faith'?" she sneered with a derisive little laugh, "it was more
like a gesture of 'I'm so pathetic that the only one I can turn to for
help is my worst enemy'. *And*, by the way, you only found out that you
needed that help while trying -- *again* -- to kill my best friend.
And, considering that you're tied to a chair in my Watcher's living
room, and couldn't actually hurt me, even if you weren't – I think I'll
threaten you to your face, or behind your back or anyway I damn well
please!"
His patented smirk remained in place throughout her little speech,
which left him mostly unconcerned. When it came to him, for some
reason, the Slayer was really mostly bark, very little bite – unless he
somehow managed to get her *really* pissed off.
Apparently – she was really pissed off.
It caught him by surprise when a small, strong hand shot out to grab a
handful of his hair, pulling his head back in a gesture that was more
threatening than painful. She was using very little of her actual
strength; they both knew that she was strong enough to snap his neck
with one quick movement if she wanted to.
And they both knew that she wouldn't.
His smug smile faltered for just a moment as she gave his head a quick,
sharp little tug backward, but was immediately back in place, mocking
her even through the discomfort, unwilling to show her that her actions
had any impact on him at all.
"And by the way," she added, lowering her voice slightly and giving him
a calculating smile of triumph that made him feel terribly uneasy, in
spite of himself, "you might wanna be careful what you say about me,
Spike. I just might have to prove you wrong!"
She released him as suddenly as she had grabbed him, standing up
straight and turning to leave – gritting her teeth at the sound of his
soft, derisive laughter behind her.
"You'd love the chance to try, wouldn't you, love?" he goaded her, his
cocky smirk unaffected by the little encounter.
This time, Buffy forced herself to ignore his comments, reminding
herself that after the ritual was over, she would not longer have to
put up with his constant mockery. If her sexual abilities did not shut
him up – a single order from her lips would.
As the Slayer and her friend disappeared into the kitchen, Spike
muttered under his breath, "Bitch."
He hated the way she had of acting with him, all high and mighty, proud
and self-righteous, as if she was the defender of all things good and
pure against all things dark and evil – and he was good enough to fit
in neither category, in her eyes – relegated to a status not unlike
that of the dirt beneath her feet.
The overwhelming blow that his pride had taken with the helplessness
that the chip had introduced to his life, was intensified every time
she spoke to him, with derision and disgust, making it abundantly clear
that she despised him completely.
And yet – he knew that his senses did not lie. The Slayer was
attempting – and failing – to hide a powerful attraction to him. In
fact it hardly seemed that they were ever in the same room lately when
he was not aware of her silent desire for him.
And what was even worse, was the response that intoxicating desire
created in him.
He tried to deny it; he insisted that he *hated* her – wanted her dead,
and wanted to be the one to make her that way. Yet, in the end, he
could not deny that what his body was screaming out every time he was
anywhere near her, was the truth.
He wanted *her*, too. And that was the most frightening thought of all.
*Infuriating bint!* he thought resentfully. *When I get this bloody
chip out – the Slayer's gonna see how bloody neutered I am! She thinks
she knows a thing or two about a thing or two, eh? Well I'll be glad to
teach her a long, thorough lesson before I drain her dry!* he smirked.
*Then *she'll* be the one tied up and helpless, and we'll see how *she*
likes it!*
Now there was a nice little thought – the Slayer in chains, at *his*
mercy, unable to resist him as he made her eat the words she had just
spoke, pleading, begging him for just a little more...
*More*? He suddenly snapped out of his reverie, wide-eyed in horror.
Where had that thought come from?
*No! Not begging for more!* he corrected his fantasy quickly. *Begging
for *mercy*! 'Oh, please, Spike, I admit you're a master vampire, and
stronger and smarter and all round better in every way than I am, and
in no way weak or unmanly – and bloody sexy – please – touch me again...'*
*No!* he snarled at himself in near panic as he realized the turn his
thoughts had taken again. *She's the bloody Slayer! You're not supposed
to want to shag her senseless, you're supposed to want to kill her
dead!*
Spike leaned his head back with a weary sigh, closing his eyes for a
moment, before looking back up at the door, his sharp blue eyes
narrowing in anger at the thought of the girl just beyond it who took
so much pleasure in every moment of his humiliation.
When the chip came out, he told himself, a bit too emphatically, the
annoying, vicious little blonde was going to pay for the wreckage she
had made of his life – because she *was* responsible. For everything
that had gone wrong over the past few years. It was all her fault.
It was the Slayer who had ruined everything for him, beginning when she
had paralyzed him in the church that night. If he had not been confined
to that bloody wheelchair, he could have defended his rights against
Angelus when he had made his appearance a few months later – which was
also Buffy's doing, by the way!
Drusilla's unfaithfulness with Angelus had been the beginning of the
end for his doomed relationship with his Dark Princess. After that, she
had never seemed to regain any amount of respect for him, and had
become more and more unfaithful, and more and more blatant about her
infidelities, until finally, she did not even bother to try to hide
them anymore.
She had blamed it on him, claiming that he was the one who had changed
– that he was not really hers at all anymore – that he was obsessed
with...
No...he did not care to think about that right now.
But he had only come back to Sunnydale in the first place because
Drusilla had left him, and he had blamed the Slayer and Angel for her
loss. Deep down, he had thought that he could win her back if he killed
the Slayer, to prove to Drusilla that he was hers alone. But he had
ended up getting side-tracked with the soddin' love spell business that
had gone so badly, and failed to accomplish his original goal – killing
Buffy.
But while he was there, he *had* heard the rumors about the Gem of
Amara. And it was when he had come back for the gem that he had had
that disastrous battle with the Slayer. A bloke had nothing if he
didn't have his pride, right? Couldn't just let it go at that. He had
to stay and avenge his reputation of the Slayer.
And it was because of sticking around Sunnyhell to kill the Slayer that
he had been captured by the commandos and had the soddin' chip stuck in
his head.
So it was really all very clear. Even a bloody child could see it.
It was all Buffy's fault.
Yes, he thought, glaring at the spot where she had disappeared a few
minutes earlier. One way or another, he was going to find a way to get
the chip out of his head. And when he did, Buffy was going to pay.
William the Bloody was going to kill his third Slayer.
"Okay," Buffy announced as she closed the kitchen door behind her.
"Let's do it." She looked expectantly at her Watcher, waiting for his
response.
Giles was startled by her sudden surety. "You're – quite certain,
Buffy?" he asked cautiously, though his face made it obvious that he
was pleased with her decision. He wanted her to go through with the
ritual.
Had he know all that it would involve, Buffy thought grimly, he would
likely have felt much differently about it.
She nodded decisively. "I'm sure," she declared.
"Buffy, I don't like this," Xander said quietly, sounding very unhappy.
"What if something goes wrong? What if he overpowers you, while his
chip is down?"
"He won't," Buffy said simply. "I can beat Spike easy. He's never
really beaten me..."
*You've never really beaten *him*, either.* The thought made her
uneasy, so she put it out of her mind. This time – she would.
She had to.
For the next few minutes, Buffy and her friends discussed the
particulars of the ritual – though not nearly in as much detail as she
and Anya had discussed it. At first, Giles and Xander were both
adamantly against the idea of her being alone with Spike to perform the
ritual. They wanted to be sure that she was safe, shoe start to get the
upper hand.
Buffy did not say what she was thinking – that there would be little
that either of them could do to help her against an unchipped master
vampire like Spike. But even had the ritual not been of such a personal
nature, and the safety of her friends not an issue, something inside
her balked at the idea of having anyone else around for this occasion.
Some deep down part of her seemed to recognize that this was going to
be a profound, personal sort of thing – powerful rivals locked in
battle for mastery – and although she could not explain it, she knew
that even if she were to be losing, if she found that she could not
defeat Spike on her own – she would not want anyone to intervene.
The thought just seemed – wrong...unfair, somehow.
This was going to be between her and Spike. No one else.
After lots of discussion, and some downright arguing, they finally came
up with a basic plan of action. Buffy finally thought of the ideal
place to set this epic battle, and they worked out the timing for
Willow's spell, and the time they would carry out the plan.
The next night, at 8:00 pm – when Buffy would be at her peak
performance level – Spike's chip would lose its signal, allowing him to
fight her freely. It would stay down, Willow had said, for
approximately six hours. During that time, Buffy knew that her fate and
that of the blonde vampire who had crossed her path so many times would
once more intersect, in a battle that would change both of their lives
in a dramatic and profound way.
But she really had no idea just *how* important this battle was going
to turn out to be.
After the next night – her life would never be the same again.