Rating: NC-17 Be warned, this is not fluffy Spike.
Spoilers: Season 4 through Who Am I?
Summary: Spike met Faith in "Who Am I?" while she was in
Buffy's body. What if that meeting had gone a little bit
differently?
She backed into him as she careened off the dance floor. He
hadn't seen her coming and the impact was sharp -- he almost
dropped his beer.
"Oh, you..." he said with a half-hearted sneer.
The Slayer -- perfect complement to another buggered night
in this buggered town that I can't leave because of my buggered
head.
"And you," she said with a come hither smile.
Shit! She's flirting. The little bitch is flirting with me, just to
grind it in that I'm helpless and impotent. God, what I wouldn't
give to have this chip out of my head and my teeth in her
neck.
"What, are you keeping tabs on me? Are you going to give me
a hard time now?"
"Um... do I usually give you a hard time?" Her hands were on
her hips.
That outfit -- as sexy as anything I've ever seen her in -- black
tank top that shows off those pert little tits, and black leather
pants that cling to every curve of her round little ass. God I'd
like to feel her struggle as I clamp down on her. Does she
usually give me a hard time? Well yes, but that's beside the
point.
"Very funny. Well, you don't have to worry about me
drinking. Unless you're here to protect innocent beers."
He turned and walked away.
Get away from her before you do something that will make
your head explode. Shit. She's following.
"You're a vampire."
Is she drunk?
"Was. And as soon as I get this chip out of my head, I'll be a
vampire again. But until then, I'm just as helpless as a kitten up
a tree. So why don't you sod off?"
"OK."
Oh, no. She's not getting away with that.
"Oh, fine! Throw it in my face! Spike's not a threat anymore.
I'll turn my back. He can't hurt me."
"Spike? Spike. William the Bloody with a chip in his head. I
kind of love this town."
What the fuck is going on with her?
"You know why I really hate you, Summers?"
"'Cause I'm a stuck-up tight-ass with no sense of fun?"
"Well, yeah, that covers a lot of it."
She moved closer, something dangerous in her eyes.
"'Cause I could do anything I want, and instead, I choose to
pout and whine and feel the burden of slayerness? I mean, I
could be rich, I could be famous, I could have anything.
Anyone."
Anyone? Don't even think about it.
Another step closer. She put her hands on his chest. She was so
close he could feel her heart beating. Her breath tickled against
his face. He could feel the heat of her. It would be so easy to
put a hand out and touch her.
"Even you, Spike. I could ride you at a gallop until your legs
buckled and your eyes rolled up. I've got muscles you've never
even dreamed of. I could squeeze you until you popped like
warm champagne, and you'd beg me to hurt you just a little bit
more. And you know why I don't?"
Think of something to say that will keep her close. Don't let
her walk away now. God, why can't I think of anything to
say?
She pursed her lips and batted her eyelashes.
"Because it's wrong."
She backed off, then her eyes full of mocking amusement, she
came back abruptly -- and kissed him.
Oh my God!
She pulled away, but found that she couldn't. He had her wrist
in a crushing grip.
"Who the fuck are you?" he said, his eyes narrowing.
She smiled and batted her eyelashes again. "I'm Buffy
Summers! You know that."
"No you're not."
"What do you mean?" The smile disappeared and she tried to
pull her arm away from him.
"I mean, I know how Buffy Summers kisses and that wasn't it.
Who the hell are you?"
"You're crazy."
She couldn't get her wrist out of his grip.
"Am I? Let me see. What are the possibilities. Is this a
glamour?" He brought his face down close to hers. "You
certainly smell like Buffy Summers -- with the addition of a
little heavier perfume than she usually wears."
He gave her an assessing look. His free hand came up and
touched her cheek then slid down to her neck and over her
shoulder.
"You feel like Buffy Summers. I'd know the touch of that skin
anywhere." He was leering at her now, as his hand found her
hip and traced the contour of her behind.
"Having a nice grope?" she said sarcastically.
"Oh yes. Quite nice, thank you. I don't think it's a glamour.
You'd feel different. Glamours don't usually extend to the
tactile senses. Could you be a shapeshifter?" He gave her butt a
little squeeze. "Don't think so. There's a particular scent that
usually comes with shapeshifters. And the flesh is usually a
little bit rubbery."
"Fuck off!"
"I'm beginning to think that may be a possibility," he said,
showing a bit of tooth in his smile. "Not a glamour, not a
shapeshifter -- what does that leave? Possession?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Keep it up -- if you want to end up in an
ashtray."
He laughed. "Funny thing, sweetheart. Here I am holding your
wrist so tight it's bruising you, and I don't feel a twinge in my
head." He jerked her wrist and bent it back painfully. "Isn't that
odd? I should be screaming in pain right now. But I'm not."
"You're crazy. I'm human. One hundred percent. Both sides, all
the way back."
"Are you? Maybe you are -- but there's something else in there.
There's something interfering and throwing my chip off the
scent. Magic?"
"I'm going to kill you," she said through clenched teeth.
"You're probably going to try. And I can't tell you how much
I'm looking forward to it. God, to be able to fight you again.
This is going to be so good." He licked his lips.
"Your funeral..."
"Been there. Done that."
"Outside. Now!"
He grinned.
He didn't let go of her wrist until they were in the alley. She
paused and rubbed the bruise for a moment.
"Got a stake, sweetheart? If not, I'll give you a moment to find
something," he said with an insolent smile.
"You are way overconfident, Spike. It's going to cost you."
He just laughed.
"We'll see."
She charged at him and he dodged her easily, sticking out a leg
and almost managing to trip her. She recovered and turned to
hit him on the rebound, but he turned just as quickly and
landed a solid blow to her mid-section. She reeled backward
and he advanced.
She launched into a high kick that he ducked, coming back up
instantly and grabbing her leg from beneath, tipping her
backward and slamming her to the ground.
He was straddling her before she fully recognized her
position. She was looking up into his game face -- fangs
glittering in the light from the lamp on the back of the building,
yellow eyes full of triumph. The fangs descended toward her
throat.
"No," he said, pulling back. "That was too easy. Probably the
only chance for a good fight I'm going to get for the
foreseeable future, and it's over in a couple of seconds. No.
This won't do at all." He got off her and let her get up.
"You're an idiot. I'm going to kill you."
"So you keep saying."
She hit him with a spinning kick before he could resume his
fighting stance, and sent him stumbling into the wall. He turned
and snarled, snatching her raised fists and swinging her around
to slam into the same cinderblock structure. He moved up
close.
"This just seems to be my lucky night," he said, pressing
himself against her.
"Oh no. I'm not lucky," she said bitterly. "Not for you, not even
for me. I'm the ultimate thirteen. The jinx for all seasons. And
you're about to find it out." She raised her knee to bash his
balls, but he anticipated her. As her leg came up, he grabbed it
and lifted her off the ground, pinning her to the wall with his
body.
"You want to kill me or fuck me?" she said sarcastically.
"I have to choose?"
"Shit," she said as he squeezed her ass.
"I think I've figured it out," he said, his face just a fraction of
an inch from hers. "You're the other slayer. The crazy one
they're all looking for. You've got the moves.
"I've heard about you. How'd you manage to get into Buffy?
Something, incidentally, I'm quite pleased to see I'm going to
be doing myself any minute now."
"Go fuck yourself."
He laughed out loud. "Don't have to. I've got you."
Then, to her surprise, he let her go. She backed away from him,
her body tense, ready for another attack.
"You know why I'm taking you so easily, sweetheart?"
She only glared at him.
"You don't fit in that body. Oh, you're good, all right. And my
guess is you'd be holding your own against most vamps. But
you're just a fraction of a second off. You're having to think
about how to move. It's not instinctive. I bet you're taller than
Summers. You kick as if you think your leg is longer than it is.
The body moves differently than you're used to. The leverage
is different.
"Give you another week to get used to the body, and you'll be
just as deadly as you ever were. Too bad you don't have a
week. Right now, it's not a matter of if I'll be able to beat you,
it's just a matter of when I get tired of playing."
"I'll still take you down," she said between clenched teeth.
"I'm all for going down, love."
She leapt toward him, catching him enough off guard that she
managed to land a blow to his face. He caught her on the
follow-through and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her
back against him, her back to his front. He didn't grip her
tightly this time, and she didn't try to pull away.
"Fighting gets you hot, doesn't it?" he whispered in her ear.
"Yeah," she breathed, has his hands wandered over her upper
body. She pressed back against him.
"And it doesn't worry you that I may change the game at any
moment?" She felt his fangs graze the skin of her throat.
"Just like me," she said, driving her elbow back into his mid-
section. She pulled away and turned around to face him.
"This is as dangerous for you as it is for me. I may be off my
game, but I'm still a Slayer. But you like it dangerous, don't
you?"
She moved close again and looked up into his demon face.
"So here's the deal. You want this taken care of..." Her hand
went down and traced the contour of the hard bulge in his
trousers. "You lose the fangs."
"Fair enough," he said, shaking his head slightly and going
back to his human face. "Um... you want to go somewhere?"
Faith shook Buffy's head. "Nope. This suits me fine. No
privacy -- you know -- dangerous." She began unfastening his
belt.
He leered down at her. "I don't know why you say you're a
jinx. Seem pretty lucky for me."
He moved her around so she was against the wall. His black
duster hung around them, providing just enough privacy that
the couple who came of the back door of the Bronze a few
minutes later thought they were nothing more than one more
pair of lovers necking in the shadows of the alley. There was a
lot more going on than necking. Her hands were on his
hardened cock and stroking. He was peeling her leather pants
down below her hips and caressing the warm, bare skin of her
behind. She squirmed against him, kissing him on the face and
neck. He pushed up her tank top and ran his hands over her
breasts.
Her breath came in gasps punctuated by soft moans. He kissed
her fiercely, pushing her head back until it was solidly against
the wall and he could devour her mouth, probing deep with his
tongue. Her heart was racing; he could feel her pulse
accelerating. Her skin was warming up and he could smell the
sweet musk of her arousal. She was ready, he could tell she
was more than ready, she was aching for him.
He pushed her trousers lower and she wiggled a little to let
them fall around her ankles. She kicked them away. He lifted
her up and she wrapped her legs around his hips. A little
wiggle for position, and he plunged into the warm, moist
depths.
She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on his shoulder as
his thrusts carried her higher, riding a wave after wave of
sensation. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her legs gripped
him tighter than a mortal man could have tolerated.
She threw her head back and cried out as her body was
wracked by spasms of pleasure. She felt him thrust harder and
faster as his own climax took over. They rested together for a
moment as the tide ebbed.
Then, he let her down and took a moment to pull up and
refasten his trousers. He reached out with a foot and dragged
her leather pants back to where she could reach them and stood
with his arms slightly spread to provide a curtain with his
duster while she dressed herself.
"Nope. Not unlucky at all," he said with a smile.
"Depends on how you look at it," she said with a smirk. With a
swift, smooth motion, she reached over and scooped up a shard
of a broken wooden packing case that lay on the pavement of
the alley and swung around to plunge it into Spike's chest. She
was fast, but not quite fast enough. He caught her arm and spun
her around so it was twisted painfully behind her.
"You're still off by a split second, bitch," he hissed in her ear.
He pushed her away roughly and she stumbled.
"Want to go another round, baby?" he said, grinning.
"Still planning to kill me?"
Spike laughed. "Actually, I don't think I will. You want it too
bad. You really hate Buffy, don't you? You got her body, and
it's driving you crazy because everybody loves Buffy. And you
know it's Buffy they love, not you. They keep reminding you
they think you -- the real you -- is nothing but a crazy,
dangerous Bitch. Now you want to die, because then you won't
have to keep having it rubbed in your face. This body switch
thing really isn't working out all that well for you, is it?"
She lunged at him again, and he caught her easily.
"Where's the real Buffy?" he asked.
"What do you care?"
He shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe I want to go have a look at the
real you. Or, maybe I want to go have a taste of Brand X. Bet I
can have a go at her, just like you, without my chip going off."
"You're a pig."
"Yeah, Buffy tells me that a lot."
"You'll never get to her. The Watchers are treating her to an
all-expenses-paid vacation to England. Believe me, becoming
me wasn't lucky for her at all."
"Just the perfect little thirteen, aren't you?" He was smirking at
her and it infuriated her.
"You'd better watch your back, vampire. Give me a week," she
hissed. Then she turned and ran.
Spike dug in his pocket for his cigarettes. He lit one and took a
drag. What to do now? He could probably build up some credit
that might come in handy in the future by contacting the
Watcher and letting him know what had happened to his
Slayer. A little bit of information like that might be traded for
some pocket change or maybe more.
Spike chuckled at himself. Who needs it? He took another drag
on his cigarette and went back inside to have another beer.