Out of My Head

Out of My
Head

...part III...

When Buffy woke up the following
morning, she felt sated, relaxed and... totally completely
astonished. She recalled what had happened last night with Spike
pretty clearly (and when she did – recall it, that is –
she wound up with a burning blush on her cheeks and a delicate
throb between her legs for her trouble.) She couldn’t
believe she’d allowed him to get away with... doing that to
her.

Spike grinned evilly to himself as he
walked around the upper level of the crypt, barefoot. Ha!
He’d brought off the Slayer! And he knew – he knew
– that she’d been thinking of him when she came –
the upside to a claiming. Even though she hadn’t
acknowledged the claim, he’d had her blood. Therefore,
without her even knowing it, she was bonded to him. He could
sense her every feeling, and hear her every thought, even though
she couldn’t sense his feelings, or hear his thoughts. Yet.

< Please let the claim have
worked, please let the claim have worked, please let the claim
have worked... >

A loud scream pierced the
air. Anya, busily rummaging amongst Giles’ belongings,
jumped out of her skin (figuratively speaking, of course. You had
to be reeeeeeeally careful of what you said on the Hellmouth),
nearly dropping an extremely old Tiki ‘god of wine’
statue or something. Turning, she looked over Giles’ couch
where she found Willow and Tara with comforting hands on
Buffy’s shoulders. Buffy herself had her face in her hands,
letting out little whines of unhappiness. Dawn sat across from
them, flipping boredly through a research book while raising her
eyebrows in amusement at her sister, without lifting her head.
Buffy captured their attention once again by banging her head
down on Giles’ coffee table and whining. Again.

"I HATE this! Riley is
being such a... God, I can’t even say anything bad about
him! I KNOW he means well, and I know he wants to help and
worries about me, but he nearly died because he wanted to be
freaking Superman! I really wanna give him more credit, but the
more he interferes, the more he’s liable to die. He thinks he’s
the goddamn super-hero; he thinks he has to match me for
everything I do! He does NOT get that I just want him to be there
for me. I want him to stay behind the scenes, but he wants to be
out there so he can protect me, like I can’t fucking
take care of myself!"

"Well, he’s got
good reason to want to protect you. You are his
girlfriend, and he loves you, Buffy. He doesn’t want you to
get hurt, ya know?" Willow was trying as hard as she could
to understand why Buffy was so pissed at her boyfriend. Really
hard.

To think, it had all only
started last week. And over what? Spike getting his chip out.
That had resulted in the Scoobies’ main couple having their
relationship slipping and sliding, and occasionally free-falling
downhill.

Spike hadn’t even been
seen since then. He was completely incommunicado. Either that, or
Riley had gone out against Buffy’s orders and dusted him.
She truly, truly hoped that wasn’t the case, because
as much of a sinister force as Spike was now without the chip,
she liked the Master vampire. Well, save for his (always
inevitable) cruel jabs. But otherwise, he tended to be a pretty
good listener. He gave good advice, and he really, truly did
seem almost human at times. He had feelings, for
God’s sake. All in all, Spike was a nice guy when he
wasn’t threatening to kill them... although that hadn’t
happened in a really long time... oh, and that was another thing.
Killing.

There’d been none.

There hadn’t been any
reports of Spike going on a psychopathic rampage and killing
everyone and everything in sight. Buffy, on a whim, had gone to
check out the butcher’s, and received some startling
information – Spike was still getting baggy blood there.

Oh. Yeah. And then
there was the minor fact that SPIKE HADN’T KILLED BUFFY.

< Yet >
a
tiny, timid voice inside her mind whimpered. She shrugged off the
bad vibes and turned her attention back to Buffy. She was
describing the talk she’d had with Riley the day after they
found out about Spike’s little bite-an’-slurp.

"... and he had the
nerve to say that HE forgave ME for yelling at him last week!
Like I’M the fucking bad guy here! I mean... not that
Riley’s the bad guy, but... UGH, this is so frustrating! I
love him, and I love being with him, and I’m glad he’s
here. The thing is, I used to love hearing him talk big and see
him take charge when he was coming with me to take out baddies.
But now, it’s like... every time he opens his mouth, I just
wanna strangle him!" Buffy was nearly in tears. Feeling this
way was so exhausting and heart wrenching. And, god, to top it
all off, Spike had apparently developed some sort of sexual
interest in her, and THAT in itself had thrown her for a loop.
Not just a normal loop. Oh, no, this was Spike she was dealing
with here. Spike had loops, and Spike’s loops
were the kind of loops on a goddamn roller coaster; the kind that
tossed you around three or four times until you were completely
immobile for fear of puking.

First, there had been his
little impromptu grind session with her on the floor of Doctor
Overheiser’s office. Then there had been that little
incident in her bedroom, when he’d tied her up, lit her on
fire, then ignited something even warmer when he’d... kissed
her...

She caught her eyes glazing
and bolted upright again.

< Whoops, train
derailing. Get your thoughts back on TRACK, Buff! >

Just recently, Spike had
returned to her bedroom again, with the handcuffs. Two nights
ago, in fact. He’d done the exact same things to her. Except
this time, it had been extended and a little more... lewd. The
image of something long, thick and hard, with shiny, light blue
plastic... something that happened to belong to her... popped
into her head, and she tried (hard) not to become a ripe tomato.
Instead, she turned her focus back onto her griping.

"Seriously, you
should’ve heard the condescending tone he was using with me.
He was treating me like a four year old, and GOD, I was so ready
to just whap him across the room! Who the hell gives him the
right to talk down to me the way he did? Just because he’s a
freaking psych major, and thinks he knows all there is to know
about Buffy Summers... argh...."

Willow didn’t exactly
know what to say to her. When Angel had been the problem, she'd
somehow known exactly what to do, exactly what to say to try and
comfort the Slayer. But now, with Riley... they’d seemed so
perfect at first. Now... now it appeared that Riley wanted the
active role in what Buffy could or couldn’t do. He wanted to
take control and commandeer Buffy’s life. Buffy was beside
herself, not knowing what to do. And Willow, for once, had no
idea what to do for her.

She hated to say it, but it
looked like break-up was imminent in the future. Poor Buffy was
aching over the way things were going.

Question was, why did she
seem more annoyed than heartbroken about Splitsville?

Fighting.

GOD. The rush of it all.
The adrenaline pumping through your system. The blood rushing
through your veins. Buffy rolled back on the balls of her feet in
excitement as a particularly large vampire approached her, baring
his teeth and snarling. He tilted his head, sniffing once. A
large smile curled on his face as he recognized her scent. The
scent of strength and power. The scent of...

"Mmmm. The
Slayer," he hissed through a row of ugly, gnarled teeth.

Buffy grinned back
wickedly.

"Compost," she
greeted back, then whipped out her stake. Seconds until dusting:
ninety and counting.

The vampire barged toward
her, and Buffy, scooched to the side, just barely avoiding being
bulldozed by the behemoth. Instead of turning around, she
cartwheel-ed forward, then flipped once, landing in a crouch,
facing him.

And THEN, she rushed him.

The dull thud of skin
against skin echoed across the graveyard. Buffy was thrilled. She
hadn’t had a good challenge in a while, ever since a certain
someone (*coughcough*spike*coughcough*) had avoided her for the
past three days. It had already been two minutes and forty
seconds since they’d begun, and Buffy wasn’t planning
on ending it any time soon.

Apparently Big, Gross and
Burly had other plans. He grabbed Buffy by her neck, lifted her
up and slammed her down painfully hard onto a large, flat
tombstone. Buffy moaned softly from the pain. Fuck... if that
hadn’t broken her back, then it at LEAST had to have cracked
some ribs. This could prove to be bad.

Still, she got up and
continued to fight. < Ever the trooper, Buff. >

Right hook, left upper cut,
roundhouse kick, quick right jab, knee to the groin. Hah, that
always got th--

Whoa. She hadn’t
expected that.

Suddenly, she was flat on
her back, looking up at the sky, with a big, heavy vampire
on top of her, lowering his face to her neck. She tensed and
bucked roughly, letting out a whimper of displeasure. She felt
something cloudy surround her immediately, covering her with a
powerful haze and suddenly, the vamp bolted straight up, staring
at her almost in fear. He got up to run and made it about five
paces before a swish of green and brown dashed past her.

And then he was dust.

Buffy sat up and looked
around in confusion until she found her savior. Then sighed in
annoyance as Riley got in her line of sight. He walked toward her
with a stern, angry look on his face before grabbing her arm and
jerking her up. She let out a cry of pain and grabbed at her
ribs, then jerked away from him furiously, glaring with an almost
feral look about her eyes. Either Riley didn’t even notice,
or her played it off really well. He shook his head.

"God, what is it with
you, Buffy? I think you were right about being a vampire chew
toy. Only difference is that I think you like it. You
can’t seem to get enough of it!" She scowled angrily at
the man that had once been the center of her world.

"Oh, yeah, Riley. I
just love feeling teeth in my neck and getting sucked away
from life. That’s the reason I let Angel, Dracula and Spike
all have me, you know. In fact, that’s why I keep Spike
around. I’m like his very own little blood tap. If he’d
just drank the tiniest bit more, I could be free of this
life, and free of you, Mr. Bossy, Controlling Guy!" she
finished lamely. Ferocity entered his eyes the minute she had
mentioned Angel and Spike. Two vampires that happened to be
"related," and who both had an interest in the Slayer.
On different levels, of course, but Riley was starting to suspect
a common connection working in with the younger vampire. The same
sort of connection his Sire had had with Buffy. Buffy lowered her
eyes and watched his fists clench and unclench. She looked back
up at his face, and saw that his teeth were clenching tightly as
well.

"Maybe I should get
some vamp to turn me, then. Seeing as how only walking
corpses can get your attention, maybe I should get your precious
Spike to turn me. Since you seem to like being such a vamp whore
--" Her eyes widened, then reacted on instinct, hauling off
and punching him brutally in the face. He let out a cry and fell,
clutching his nose, his eyes staring up at her in astonishment.

She’d hit him.
She’d actually hit him!

"You mother fucker.
Get the hell away from me. Leave. Leave before I tear you apart
and shove a goddamn telephone pole up your ass! Get the fuck away
from me, and don’t you DARE try to talk to me! Don’t
talk to me again unless it’s an apology that’s coming
out of that fat mouth of yours! You... you disgust me
right now, and I have no idea how I could’ve put up with
your bullshit for so long. Go!" Riley stared at her,
breathing harshly out of his mouth, before his eyes lowered. Talk
about the Royal Fuck-Up. This one truly took the cake. He’d
reacted too strongly on some strange form of jealousy, and now
she hated him. He got up, still holding his nose, and started to
walk off. He turned back hopefully when she called his name.

"Riley," she
called, tilting her head. "About getting Spike to turn
you... Don’t ever joke around about that..." Her
expression hardened. "Because Spike wouldn’t even
bother to step in your blood, let alone suck it straight out of a
jackass like you."

Riley’s eyes widened
with hurt, and he turned away again, stumbling out of the
cemetery in shock.

No... THAT was the Royal
Fuck-Up.

Buffy drew a deep breath
and exhaled, closing her eyes. And amazingly, a calm, settling
peace washed over her. She smiled. Hah! Who’d’ve thunk
it? Breaking it off with Riley had done the trick. She felt more
calm and relaxed now than she’d been since Spike had last
left her.

Speaking of...

Her neck tingled and a
shiver ran straight down her back. She turned around, yelping
when she came face to face with the tall, well-muscled
bloodsucker. He gently ran a single finger down her bare
shoulder.

"Been wondering when
you’d get the hint."

He hadn’t been spying
on her. Really, he hadn’t. Okay, so maybe he had, early on
in the night, but up until around ten minutes ago, he’d been
cuddled up in his crypt, trying to watch Nick at Nite. He’d
felt something shoot through him, and a warning light go off in
his head. The feeling was directly linked with Buffy, and he
figured something was wrong, so he’d jumped up and dashed
out of his crypt. When he’d gotten to the little clearing,
he’d spotted a fat-ass vamp about to chow down on the tiny
girl. He’d smirked when the vamp had suddenly sensed Spike's
presence, then leaned in and scented the mark, right when the
claim took control, protecting her from the oversized blob. The
grin had grown wider when Fat-Ass jumped up and ran off in fear.

THEN the grin had shrunk
into a frown when he saw that Asshole had taken him out.

The grin had come back when
Buffy had decked him, then told him to get the hell out. And by
the time Buffy had told him the bit about his blood, Spike’s
entire head could’ve been considered one huge, fangy grin.
Two thoughts ran clearly and coherently through his head. The
first was < About fucking time! >

The second was <
GOD, I love her. >

Buffy stared up at the
bleached vampire, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat. Spike
licked his lower lip. Dammit; he’d wanted to mess with her
head a little first, piss her off and tease her a bit. But now...
looking at her, all hot and blushy and sweaty and tousled and
almost anticipating of what he’d do...

Fuck. Now he was just
horny. Hungry, too, but mostly horny. His dick seemed to be doing
all of the thinking for him the more he was around Buffy. He
pulled her close and flashed her a pleased smile as she gasped.
His erection, fully hard and straining, reaching out to her, was
nestled firmly against the taut muscles of her stomach. Buffy
whimpered softly as heat flooded between her legs. Ohhh, bad.
So... so, bad... but good. Oh, good. Oh, god, so good... no, no,
no, BAD!

< Come on, Buff,
you can control yourself in front of him. Don't let him
completely turn you into a big pile of Buffy mush. Don't let him
control you. Stay strong. All you have to do is just... stay...
strong. >

Spike leaned into her and
nuzzled her neck for a moment, placing a kiss softly over her
scars. Lifting his head, he kissed her forehead, then led a trail
down to her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, and her chin, gently
trying to coax her out of the little shell she seemed content to
stay in. When she finally let her guard down, Spike grasped the
back of her head roughly, and shoved his lips to hers, his
unwittingly elongated fangs providing extra brutality in what was
otherwise a completely passionate kiss. Buffy let out a sharp,
pained, muffled cry and braced her hands against his chest,
trying to pull away. When Spike refused to let go, Buffy resorted
to violence, and brought her knee up between them.

Spike let out a howl and
grabbed his midsection, backing away and staring at her with
flashing yellow eyes. And suddenly, he was met with a hard, cruel
punch to the jaw, one so powerful that it sent him flying back
three feet. He promptly shot up, and let out a vicious growl,
launching himself at her and grasping her shoulders tightly,
switching instinctively to game face. He cocked his head,
smirking at her evilly.

"You’re gonna
wish you hadn’t a done that, luv," he growled. Buffy
jerked out of his grip, and threw another punch at him.

"The only thing
I’m wishing is that I’d dusted you when you came back
to Sunnydale, Spike," she spat, punctuating her sentence
with a hit to the gut and, as he doubled over, a kick to the back
of his legs, sending him down. Spike grasped her leg as he hit
the grass and jerked her down with him, catching her completely
off guard. He grinned.

"So we’re gonna
dance, then, are we, Slayer?" She jumped up before he had a
chance to cover her, and executed a kick to the head.

"This isn’t
dancing, Bleach Boy. This is me, kicking your sorry
ass all over town for the five-hundredth time!" She stood
over him and bashed him in the side of the head as soon as he got
onto his knees. A complete and utter mistake, as Spike now had
easy aim toward her middle and assaulted her with a barrage of
punches to the gut. She gave just as good as she got, returning a
punch for a punch, jab for a jab, kick for a kick.

Spike was in heaven.

Or as close as he
could get, anyway.

He was getting harder by
the minute, and was eager to finish the fight so that he could
take her back to the crypt and engage in some, uh... Olympic
acrobatics.

It was probably a bad idea
for his more southern brain to bring that up, because now he was
fully distracted. He didn’t even notice it when Buffy
somersaulted over his head, landing behind him. He did
notice, however, when she kicked him down and shoved his face to
the ground. She sat on top of him and dug her knee into his back,
grasping his hands and holding him down forcefully (which was
probably a mistake; Spike seemed to like that too much.) She
leaned down to speak in his ear, and he had to hold back a moan
as he felt her small, humble, soft breasts press against him.

"I don’t know
what you’ve been thinking about lately, or what weird
fixations have been dancing around in your head, but I want it to
stop. Now. Whatever this sick fascination is that you have with
me, I want you to get over it. No more coming into my room at
night, no more chaining me to the bed, no more following
me on patrol," she narrowed her eyes, and he had the decency
to look sheepish through the un-smooshed part of his face,
"no more anything. Don’t toy around with me. I have a
job to do, and you’re keeping me from doing it. But for some
godforsaken reason, something is telling me not to just be done
with you right now. For now, Spike, just back off. Because next
time I won’t hesitate to put a redwood through your
chest."

Spike let out a quiet growl
– much like the one that he’d used to subdue her at the
doctor’s – and Buffy instantly quieted down. For some
weird reason, she felt chastised and apologetic. From
Spike’s growl, he sounded like he was reprimanding her for
disobeying him, like a mother would a child.

And abruptly, she yelped as
Spike knocked her off of him, then crawled on top of her, holding
all her limbs down. His icy fingers ran over her cheek and down
her neck as his body settled comfortably over hers.

"Now I know you
don’t mean any of that, pet," he replied in a deep,
rumbling voice. Buffy avoided his eyes – somehow, she knew
that staring into those hypnotic blue pools would immediately
incapacitate her. It was a definite weak spot, and a BIIIIIIIIIIG
no-no. "I’m sure you know better’n to threaten me.
Be a good little chit, or I’ll hafta punish you..." He
smiled at her satanically. "Unless you want me to
punish you." The tone of his voice indicated that
Spike’s idea of punishment was very obviously anything but
an actual punishment. He lowered his head to her neck, his teeth
sharp and at the ready to pierce her skin. She felt cool, useless
air on her neck, and suddenly, she panicked, bucking him off of
her and scrambling to her feet. Staring at him, breathing hard
and wide-eyed, she raised a finger at him.

"Stay away from me,
Spike. I mean it. Leave me alone. I don’t know what’s
going on with you, or me for that matter, but I don’t
wanna kill you. Don’t give me a reason to." She
continued to back away slowly, keeping an eye on him the entire
time until she was about ten feet away. Then she spun and bolted
away.

Spike growled in
frustration as he got up. Dammit! Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT! Now he
was hungry and horny, and HE COULDN’T DO SHIT ABOUT
IT!

Well, that wasn’t
true. He could enjoy a nice toss off right in the middle of the
cemetery, but then he might be caught by some big ugly, and
that... would be BAD.

But he’d forgotten
that he was no longer restricted by the government. He could feed
now. He could kill. And he would kill. He’d fucking
show that fucking bitch tease just how fucking scared of him she
should be.

He wasn’t gonna let
his hormones get in the way. Next time he saw her, he was gonna
rip her throat out.

Of course, he knew he would
never actually kill her. < Leave me to my own fucking
fantasies, dammit! > he thought defensively at the
rational, know-it-all part of his brain.

Anyway.

He smiled at the comforting
thought, then shrugged. He was free now, and apparently
wasn’t gonna get any tonight unless he resorted to Harmony,
or his own hand. He might as well go get someone to eat.

Walking out of the cemetery
and onto the street in a path that led in the direction opposite
of Buffy’s home, Spike grumbled, rubbing his stomach. Shit.
The little bitch kept getting stronger. That punch had really
hurt!

Deciding to try the
playground at Sunnydale Elementary School, Spike growled and
grinned in pleasure when he saw the inevitable group of teenage
kids hanging about and bullshitting around. Stupid kids; most of
them had been brought up with rules forbidding them to stay
outside in Sunnydale during the night, yet they all still did it
anyway. Regular Sunnydale occurrences were quite famous amongst
the children who were dumb enough to test the legends.

He walked toward the group
and switched on a cool, suave demeanor. Three girls, five boys.
All the boys were jock types. Two blonde girls, one brunette.
They looked to all be around sixteen or seventeen. Picking up on
a sense of nervousness in two of the girls – one of the
blondes, and the brunette – Spike turned his attention to
the slightly bolder girl. As if sensing him, she turned her head
and caught his eye. Her own eyes widened in awe, and took on that
dopey love struck look. She bit her lower lip and deftly adjusted
her shirt, pulling it down slightly to bear her cleavage. Spike
grinned and winked at the little bint; hook, line, and sinker.
And all he’d had to do was look at her.

Saying that she needed to
go over and check something out (God – er... somebody bless
preternatural vampiric hearing) to her friends, he watched her
approach the area he’d hidden in questioningly. Stepping
out, he gave her a smoldering gaze and tilted his head. It
definitely came in handy looking as good as he did. Even if he
couldn’t ever see himself.

"Hullo, luv. Whatcha
doin’ out here at this time a night?" he questioned,
softening his voice and giving his accent a more uppercrest
adjustment. He watched as her smile widened at his accent and
chuckled to himself. She looked as if she was about to swoon.
Stupid bint had no clue what was in store for her.

"Uh, j-just hanging
out, w-with my friends, mister." Spike frowned disdainfully.

"Mister. Makes me
sound old as all hell get out. Call me Spike." She nodded
quickly and swallowed hard.

"Okay... Spike. Um...
what are you doing out here all by yourself?" Spike
smiled and walked forward, putting his hands on the girl’s
shoulders gently. Just before he answered, he shifted into game
face and bared his fangs in a wide grin.

"Lookin’ for a
midnight snack," he growled. Clamping one large hand over
the girl’s mouth as her eyes widened in fear, he dove
lightning quick toward her neck, nearly dying (again) from
hunger.

He stopped the second his
teeth touched her neck, hearing a terrified little whimper escape
her throat. Her heartbeat was drumming to an insane beat. Her
blood was rushing in her veins, thrumming about in his ears, and
driving him wild with bloodlust, but it was that one sound, that
one little whimper, that made him stop. Slowly, he pulled away,
his hand still over the girl’s mouth, and peered at her
through the haze. And as soon as he looked at her, he saw Buffy.

The girl had Buffy’s
eyes.

They weren’t exactly
Buffy’s eyes, since the Slayer’s were a unique swatch
of blue, green, gold and brown all in one with the tiniest hint
of violet, but they were close enough as possible to the real
thing. And instead of as before, when her fear would’ve
delighted him and made him hunger for her more... it made his
stomach churn, and he felt sick for what he’d been about to
do.

Oh, bloody hell; he felt guilty.
Ewwww!

His demon side and human-y
side began to battle.

Buffy would hate you
if you killed this girl.

But I’m hungry!!!!

You could go to the
goddamn butcher's and get some blood from there!

But she’s
right here and fresh and warm, and it’s not like anyone
would miss her anyway!

That isn't true, and
you know it!

But she’s
FOOD!

Well right now,
what's more important to you? Killing? Or Buffy? You make the
choice.

Spike let out a soft groan
of disgust, reverting back to his human face. Glaring at the sky,
he cursed loudly.

"Since when in the
bloody hell did you assholes decide to give me a fucking
CONSCIENCE?!" He then sighed and looked sincerely at the
girl, peering at her with his beautiful, human blue eyes.

"Get goin’, luv.
Don’t stay out at night in Sunnydale. You might run into
someone like me that won’t let you go so easy." He
tilted his head at her, taking his hand off of her mouth.
"Not a word of this to anyone, luv. I might get my ass
kicked if anyone found out that ole Spike’s gone soft.
I’ve got a rep to maintain," he said, smiling kindly at
the girl. The girl nodded quickly, awed and frightened at this
monster/man that she’d encountered. She turned to leave,
when Spike called out to her again.

"Be careful out here,
pet. There’s lotsa nasties runnin’ around. Gather up
your chums and get on home, quick as you can." The girl
nodded again, then ventured a tiny smile at the vampire. Spike
smiled back gently, then made a shooing motion. He felt like he
was with the little Bit right now. Hmph. Dawn’s innocence;
Buffy’s soul. What a way to bring a man down.

When the girl was gone, he
turned and walked toward the butcher’s, shaking his head and
growling.

"Bloody ponce, I am...
Feeling bad for some dumb kid... Bloody hell! I’ve turned
into the poof!"

AN: Oh, and for those of you wondering why I
didn’t expand on the second Buffy/Spike handcuff sitch, the
reason is simple: Spike is evil. And so am I. Hee.