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Chapter 32
Spike slept for a long time, curled around her. When she tried to move, his arm tightened. It was clear that she wasn’t going anywhere. His body weight still made her feel uncomfortable, but she was getting used to it. The welts weren’t nearly as red and vicious as they had been the night before when she had showered. It wouldn’t be long until they faded and disappeared completely.
They wouldn’t be forgotten though.
Buffy knew she should have left as soon as uncuffed her. Like a thousand times before, she had the opportunity, and the means, and the motive. There was no reason for her to stay and every reason to beat a hasty retreat. She could probably pull out of his arms without waking him. Pull on one of his t-shirts because her dress was destroyed, take what money she could find, and disappear.
She knew how to disappear. She had done it before. And Spike would let her, because he wasn’t in charge any more. Of her or himself. He had lost control…He had lost control and that was the perfect reason to stay. With a little bit of time, and a little bit of work, he would be completely wrapped around her finger, even as he wrapped himself around her body.
If she could work this just right, then she’d be set. Kept giving him reasons to love her, kept feeding those emotions, making him more dependent on her. It would be difficult because Spike would probably fight her every step of the way—but she already had her foot in the door. Fuck, the door was wide open with a big Welcome Buffy banner and balloons. Difficult, but not impossible. Far, far from impossible.
She would cut her losses though and split if he fought her too much. Ideally, their relationship could be extremely lucrative for her. He would provide for her financially, cover all her needs—which meant she could keep all the money that she made. He would protect her better than Angel ever could, and he would clean up after her. Not because she asked, and not because he necessarily wanted to, but because she wouldn’t give him a choice.
He muttered something in his sleep and shifted. She could feel him press against her ass. He was hard. Maybe she would just stick around until she was tired of the sex. Either way, he had his uses.
And besides, you like him… Buffy shook her head. No. She liked his money, and she liked the way he fucked her, and she liked that he didn’t have any pesky conscience to get in the way of her plans, but she didn’t like him.
Much.
She sighed. He had his moments when he wasn’t a complete asshole. They were few and far between, but they
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Chapter 32
Spike slept for a long time, curled around her. When she tried to move, his arm tightened. It was clear that she wasn’t going anywhere. His body weight still made her feel uncomfortable, but she was getting used to it. The welts weren’t nearly as red and vicious as they had been the night before when she had showered. It wouldn’t be long until they faded and disappeared completely.
They wouldn’t be forgotten though.
Buffy knew she should have left as soon as uncuffed her. Like a thousand times before, she had the opportunity, and the means, and the motive. There was no reason for her to stay and every reason to beat a hasty retreat. She could probably pull out of his arms without waking him. Pull on one of his t-shirts because her dress was destroyed, take what money she could find, and disappear.
She knew how to disappear. She had done it before. And Spike would let her, because he wasn’t in charge any more. Of her or himself. He had lost control…He had lost control and that was the perfect reason to stay. With a little bit of time, and a little bit of work, he would be completely wrapped around her finger, even as he wrapped himself around her body.
If she could work this just right, then she’d be set. Kept giving him reasons to love her, kept feeding those emotions, making him more dependent on her. It would be difficult because Spike would probably fight her every step of the way—but she already had her foot in the door. Fuck, the door was wide open with a big <I>Welcome Buffy</I> banner and balloons. Difficult, but not impossible. Far, far from impossible.
She would cut her losses though and split if he fought her too much. Ideally, their relationship could be extremely lucrative for her. He would provide for her financially, cover all her needs—which meant she could keep all the money that she made. He would protect her better than Angel ever could, and he would clean up after her. Not because she asked, and not because he necessarily wanted to, but because she wouldn’t give him a choice.
He muttered something in his sleep and shifted. She could feel him press against her ass. He was hard. Maybe she would just stick around until she was tired of the sex. Either way, he had his uses.
<I>And besides, you like him…</I> Buffy shook her head. No. She liked his money, and she liked the way he fucked her, and she liked that he didn’t have any pesky conscience to get in the way of her plans, but she didn’t like <I>him</I>.
Much.
She sighed. He had his moments when he wasn’t a complete asshole. They were few and far between, but they <I.>were</I> there. He made her laugh a few times. And he always gave her all of her money, never tried to short change her. And most of the time, even when he wasn’t actively being nice, he wasn’t being <I>mean</I> either.
It did come as something of a shock that he loved her. She didn’t think Spike was capable of loving anybody other than himself. It seemed his whole world revolved around what was best for him, what made him happy, what made him wealthy, what helped him survive. He used her when he could because he got off on it. It made him happy; therefore, he did it. Buffy understood that principle. So, when did things change for him? When, exactly, did he let his heart get involved?
What had she done to push him right to that edge? And was it possible for him to do the same thing to her?
Buffy could pursue that line of thought, because the cell phone rang—shattering the late morning silence. Spike stirred and pulled away from her. Blindly he reached for the phone, his fingers fumbling for several seconds before closing around it triumphantly. “Yes?”
“Spike? Where are you?” Willow asked, nearly frantic. “Are you ok? What happened?”
“Um…I’m fine. Where are you?”
“I’m at the crime scene…”
“The docks?”
“No.”
Spike rubbed his eyes. “What crime scene?”
“Another girl was found last night.”
“Where?”
“Behind the Bronze.”
“Has anybody been to the docks?”
“Yeah, they found a body near the shore. I haven’t heard too much…oh! Spike, what did you do?”
He sighed. “Are you sure it’s our killer and not a copycat?”
“I’m sure.”
“Shit.”
“You need to get down here…”
“We need to find out what happened at the docks. Willow, what was the time of death for that girl?”
“Sometime after midnight, near as they can tell.”
“Willow, the body at the docks was Warren. He definitely died before midnight.”
“Wait, if he died…then that means that…”
“Either we had the wrong guy or he wasn’t working alone.”
“I’d say he wasn’t working alone.”
“Fuck.”
“Spike, why did you just leave…it.”
“I didn’t…” He glanced at Buffy, and the harsh welts glared back at him accusingly. The memories from the night before—the desperate sounds and the <I>screaming</I> and the way she ran…He sighed. “We’ll talk about it when I get there.” He hung up before Willow could respond.
“Spike…what the hell is going on?”
“What?”
“He’s was <I>your guy</I>? And how did you know where I was?”
“Lucky guess, and we suspected he was involved in a few things….”
“What things?”
“Nothing.”
“I think I have the right to know.”
“Why?”
“Because he almost <I>killed</I> me.”
“But he didn’t. Where did you get that gun, by the way?”
“Huh?”
“I’m going to need to know.”
“The pawn shop. Where is it anyway?”
“I grabbed it.”
“Are you going to arrest me, Officer?”
“You know I’m not,” he muttered around a cigarette, resigned.
“What are you going to do?”
Spike shrugged. “The same thing I always do. At least you didn’t use my gun again.”
“Was he a suspect when you set me up with him?”
“Yes.” No apologies, just a shrug and a nod.
Carefully asked, “Am I just bait to you?”
They both knew what the answer was before he said it, but she wanted to hear him say it anyway. Spike exhaled; smoke wafting around his head and up to the ceiling. “No.”
Her only response was a small smile.
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Chapter 32
Spike slept for a long time, curled around her. When she tried to move, his arm tightened. It was clear that she wasn’t going anywhere. His body weight still made her feel uncomfortable, but she was getting used to it. The welts weren’t nearly as red and vicious as they had been the night before when she had showered. It wouldn’t be long until they faded and disappeared completely.
They wouldn’t be forgotten though.
Buffy knew she should have left as soon as uncuffed her. Like a thousand times before, she had the opportunity, and the means, and the motive. There was no reason for her to stay and every reason to beat a hasty retreat. She could probably pull out of his arms without waking him. Pull on one of his t-shirts because her dress was destroyed, take what money she could find, and disappear.
She knew how to disappear. She had done it before. And Spike would let her, because he wasn’t in charge any more. Of her or himself. He had lost control…He had lost control and that was the perfect reason to stay. With a little bit of time, and a little bit of work, he would be completely wrapped around her finger, even as he wrapped himself around her body.
If she could work this just right, then she’d be set. Kept giving him reasons to love her, kept feeding those emotions, making him more dependent on her. It would be difficult because Spike would probably fight her every step of the way—but she already had her foot in the door. Fuck, the door was wide open with a big <I>Welcome Buffy</I> banner and balloons. Difficult, but not impossible. Far, far from impossible.
She would cut her losses though and split if he fought her too much. Ideally, their relationship could be extremely lucrative for her. He would provide for her financially, cover all her needs—which meant she could keep all the money that she made. He would protect her better than Angel ever could, and he would clean up after her. Not because she asked, and not because he necessarily wanted to, but because she wouldn’t give him a choice.
He muttered something in his sleep and shifted. She could feel him press against her ass. He was hard. Maybe she would just stick around until she was tired of the sex. Either way, he had his uses.
<I>And besides, you like him…</I> Buffy shook her head. No. She liked his money, and she liked the way he fucked her, and she liked that he didn’t have any pesky conscience to get in the way of her plans, but she didn’t like <I>him</I>.
Much.
She sighed. He had his moments when he wasn’t a complete asshole. They were few and far between, but they <I.>were</I> there. He made her laugh a few times. And he always gave her all of her money, never tried to short change her. And most of the time, even when he wasn’t actively being nice, he wasn’t being <I>mean</I> either.
It did come as something of a shock that he loved her. She didn’t think Spike was capable of loving anybody other than himself. It seemed his whole world revolved around what was best for him, what made him happy, what made him wealthy, what helped him survive. He used her when he could because he got off on it. It made him happy; therefore, he did it. Buffy understood that principle. So, when did things change for him? When, exactly, did he let his heart get involved?
What had she done to push him right to that edge? And was it possible for him to do the same thing to her?
Buffy could pursue that line of thought, because the cell phone rang—shattering the late morning silence. Spike stirred and pulled away from her. Blindly he reached for the phone, his fingers fumbling for several seconds before closing around it triumphantly. “Yes?”
“Spike? Where are you?” Willow asked, nearly frantic. “Are you ok? What happened?”
“Um…I’m fine. Where are you?”
“I’m at the crime scene…”
“The docks?”
“No.”
Spike rubbed his eyes. “What crime scene?”
“Another girl was found last night.”
“Where?”
“Behind the Bronze.”
“Has anybody been to the docks?”
“Yeah, they found a body near the shore. I haven’t heard too much…oh! Spike, what did you do?”
He sighed. “Are you sure it’s our killer and not a copycat?”
“I’m sure.”
“Shit.”
“You need to get down here…”
“We need to find out what happened at the docks. Willow, what was the time of death for that girl?”
“Sometime after midnight, near as they can tell.”
“Willow, the body at the docks was Warren. He definitely died before midnight.”
“Wait, if he died…then that means that…”
“Either we had the wrong guy or he wasn’t working alone.”
“I’d say he wasn’t working alone.”
“Fuck.”
“Spike, why did you just leave…it.”
“I didn’t…” He glanced at Buffy, and the harsh welts glared back at him accusingly. The memories from the night before—the desperate sounds and the <I>screaming</I> and the way she ran…He sighed. “We’ll talk about it when I get there.” He hung up before Willow could respond.
“Spike…what the hell is going on?”
“What?”
“He’s was <I>your guy</I>? And how did you know where I was?”
“Lucky guess, and we suspected he was involved in a few things….”
“What things?”
“Nothing.”
“I think I have the right to know.”
“Why?”
“Because he almost <I>killed</I> me.”
“But he didn’t. Where did you get that gun, by the way?”
“Huh?”
“I’m going to need to know.”
“The pawn shop. Where is it anyway?”
“I grabbed it.”
“Are you going to arrest me, Officer?”
“You know I’m not,” he muttered around a cigarette, resigned.
“What are you going to do?”
Spike shrugged. “The same thing I always do. At least you didn’t use my gun again.”
“Was he a suspect when you set me up with him?”
“Yes.” No apologies, just a shrug and a nod.
Carefully asked, “Am I just bait to you?”
They both knew what the answer was before he said it, but she wanted to hear him say it anyway. Spike exhaled; smoke wafting around his head and up to the ceiling. “No.”
Her only response was a small smile.
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