Fragile: Stolen
by WendyJane
Post: A New Man. Buffy and Riley are seeing each other.

**Fragile**

Buffy looked again over her shoulder as she walked briskly along. The Bronze had been a bust tonight, Riley hadn’t shown- again, despite her oh-so-subtle hints.

“God- that man does not catch on,” she moaned to herself.

A shuffled footstep behind her made her slow down slightly as she cast another glance behind her.

In the darkness she saw the flash of a silver chain hanging around a thick neck.

*Slayer*. She reminded herself, pushing past the fear she felt and continuing on her way. *No one hurts the Slayer*.

She rounded the corner and walked straight into someone. Or rather, some-*thing*.

“Spike.” she said, of all the people she really didn’t want to see. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh you know, the usual,” he replied smugly. “Stalking the streets- looking for damsels to save. Oh right- I mean kill ‘cos you know- I’m *not* Angel.”

“No kidding,” said Buffy, pushing past him to continue on her way.

“What?” he asked, “I don’t even get a go? You don’t even bother trying to take me out?”

“Trust me-” she replied, “You’re *way* more trouble than you’re worth Spike- even with that chip in your head.”

“Well okay then,” he said, “But you’re going to feel pretty lousy tomorrow when bodies are found.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow before kicking him in the shin and strolling on by.

“Ow,” he moaned as soon as she was out of ear shot, grasping his leg, “Damn crazy bint.”

She was still being followed, Buffy knew that much. She sighed and whirred around as he came up behind her.

“Give it up Spike- you’ll never-” her breath caught in her throat as a butch looking man grinned down into her face, his breath stale and clinging to her with the smell of alcohol.

“Hello Sweetie,” he said, bringing his huge, dirty hands down on her shoulders.

His breath was intoxicating and stole her strength away as he leaned in to crush his broad lips upon her own. As he forced himself upon her there was nothing for Buffy to do but scream out in terror.

*

He was still grumbling to himself when he heard her scream rip through the alleyway.

“Oh, bloody hell.” he said to himself, “That damn Slayer- always getting herself into bother.”

He ignored the agonising scream however. That girl could take care of herself- she’d proven that on more than one occasion. Spike bitterly rubbed his shin in recollection.

He decided to sit down, right there in the alleyway, and enjoy the sound of a Slayer in pain.

But as her screams grew fainter and further apart, Spike could tell the Slayer was getting tired.

It kind of got to him- he always figured he’d be the one to kill her- it didn’t seem right that some other creature was beating him to it.

Grumbling, he got back to his feet and headed in the direction the screams were coming from, surprised to find himself almost running.

If he had breath- it would’ve caught in his throat as he rounded the corner.

There she was, possibly the strongest woman in the world, pinned against a wall as a dirty old bastard stole away her innocence.

Her eyes were closed in sheer agony, tears streaming down her red cheeks.

Disgust filled the vampire and he could barely contain his anger as he lashed out at Buffy’s attacker.

“Bloody Hell!” he exclaimed as the electric pain shot through his brain. He clutched at his forehead, preparing himself as he drew his fist back again.

Then he let the man have it, pushing past the pain that wracked his entire mind.

Eventually the Slayer’s attacker pulled himself away and pushed Spike to the ground before running back into the darkness of the alleyway.

Both Buffy and Spike dropped to the ground in agony, Spike clutching his forehead while Buffy wrapped her arms around herself and let the tears continue to flow.

“Oh God...” she whispered, “Oh God...”
“Actually, I just go by Spike these days.” the vampire said weakly.

Buffy raised her head, acknowledging the vampire’s presence for the first time.

“You saved me?” she whispered, staring at the blond, still clutching at his head, rocking slightly along with the throbbing pain.

Through it all though, he opened his eyes.

“I guess I did...” he agreed.

Buffy hauled her broken self to her feet, wrenching her now straggly hair back from her eyes. Her eyes darted around the now deserted alleyway and she cried out in fear as a cat sped past her.

Spike watched the Slayer, his head clearing some. This was no good; no good at all.

The Slayer was the one girl in all the world with the power to stop the spread of evil. She couldn’t be afraid. She couldn’t hide from the dark. No one had the right to steal the Slayer’s strength, or the strength of any girl for that sake. Despite the hatred he had always felt for Buffy, in that moment he hated the vile man who had raped her... Even more.

Spike clambered to his feet and held his hand out to the frightened looking Slayer.

“Come on Slayer, let me get you home.” he said, using his softest voice.

Buffy looked at him, staring deep into those crystal clear blue eyes. “Not yet.” she said, “I can’t go home yet. Not yet.”

Suddenly her strength deserted her altogether and she fell into the shocked vampire’s arms, her face pressed into his chest.

He held her there for a moment, not sure of what to do.

“Slayer?” he asked eventually, holding her out in front of him. Her eyes were closed and her breath was jagged. She was unconscious.

No strength, no fighting, no puns- he could kill her right now with none of that. The desire to plunge his fatal fangs down into her soft, exposed neck was almost overwhelming. He lifted his fingers and gently traced them over the tiny blue veins lacing over her throat and slowly transformed into his game face. He lowered his head and opened his mouth to bite. Slowly he sank his sharp fangs into her soft skin, tasting the intoxicating power of her blood as he drank it in slowly. The pure pleasure of her blood seemed to chase away the spider web of pain shooting through his mind.

But then her scent wafted in his direction and paralysed him.

Twenty minutes later he was laying her sleeping form down on his bed. The crypt was cold and Spike worried about the goose bumps rising on the Slayer’s arms.

After a moment’s hesitation, he pulled the heavy duvet over her then stalked across the room, grabbing a bottle of whisky as he went.

Then he fell into his scruffy comfy chair and swigged from the bottle, casting his eyes to the sleeping Slayer and feeling himself groan in disgust.

Here he was, Spike, William the Bloody, most evil vampire of all time; second only to the infamous Angelous, and here he sat, Slayer sleeping on his bed, and he was doing nothing. He was watching her- sure, he could watch her to death. But if this ever got out- well, his old friends would probably kill him for betrayal.

Spike felt his eyelids droop but they shot open again when he heard her groan cut through the room.

“Hmmm...” she whimpered, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. She froze when her hands fell on the heavy duvet and her eyes snapped open.

For a few shocked seconds she sat in a petrified silence.

Then she let out a long, shrill, scream.
“ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!” she screamed, screwing her eyes tight shut in terror. “ARRRRRRRRR-”

Spike leapt to his feet and clapped his hand over her mouth.

Her eyes snapped open and bulged when they focused on him. She made a few muffled noises before whipping her fist out and slamming it into the side of his head.

He span off the bed and landed with a thud on the floor as the Slayer gasped to catch her breath.

“Ugh- What you do that for?” the vampire asked, rubbing his head as he got back to his feet.

On the bed, Buffy pulled her knees up and the blankets with her.

“Spike,” she warned, “Stay away...”
Spike tipped his head, an annoyed expression on his face.

“Hey-” he said, “I’m the one that saved you. Great protector and all that.”
Buffy pulled the duvet around her shoulders then stood, keeping her eyes on the blond vampire the whole time.

“Why...” she looked around then her eyes shot back to Spike, “Where have you taken me?”

Spike blanched, hurt that the Slayer didn’t trust him- though why that hurt him he didn’t know.

“My crypt,” he said, “You fainted and I wanted to be sure you were safe.”

Her eyes cleared at his response, but then clouded again as she raised her hand to her neck. The wound was still bleeding and Spike looked away when her eyes filled with question marks. He didn’t know why he felt bad for biting her- he was a vampire after all.

“You bit me?” she asked. Her fragile voice annoyed him and his expression hardened; what the bloody hell did she expect? “You... Bit me?” she asked again. This time the tears shining in her eyes bit into Spike’s heart and his expression softened.

He couldn’t answer so he looked away.

“I’ll take you home now Slayer,” he said, getting to his feet. “You’ll be fine.”

He put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her forward but she resisted.

“Not yet.” she said, her voice almost pleading. “I don’t wanna go back to the dorm yet.”

“Then let me take you back to your mom,” he said, “Joyce’ll take care of you.”

Buffy shook her head looking down, moving away from Spike’s hand.

“I don’t... I don’t...” she said, tears spilling from her eyes.

“Okay, okay. Take it easy Slayer,” Spike said, softly pushing hair out of her eyes.

She looked at him with genuine fear, such that he had never seen her show before. Spike felt as if his innards were being gripped with an iron fist. The Slayer was broken, and no matter how much he hated her, he still felt his heart being wrenched at the sight of her.

Her cheeks were wet with tears, her eyes red from crying. Her normally perfect blond hair was twisted into straggled rat tails, matted from sweat mingled with tears. Her clothes were dirty and ripped; her skin broken and bloody.

“Come on Slayer, lets get you cleaned up,” Spike said.

Buffy looked at her hands, grazed from coming into contact with the harsh pavement. She didn’t even remember getting the cuts and bruises on her arms. She looked at Spike who smiled encouragingly.

“Okay...” she said hesitantly.

She sat forward, standing uncertainly as Spike moved across the room to his sink, wetting a rag.

“This is gonna hurt,” he warned as he returned. He offered Buffy a chair and she sat down uncomfortably.

“Do it.” she replied.

She gasped when he lowered the cold cloth onto her raw shoulder; he kept the rag steady, however, doing his best to ignore the expressions of pain she made.

Slowly, gently, he cleaned all of the cuts that covered her strong body, moving his wet rag in a soft, circular motion over her toned skin. Finally he arrived at two tiny puncture holes on her neck and his hand froze.

Buffy’s eyes darted around the room then moved to slowly meet his. They were crystal clear and shining with tears.

Spike sighed and moved the cloth over the bleeding wound. The shock of the cold caused the Slayer to cry out and that provoked a reaction neither of them had expected.

“I’m sorry.” the vampire said in a voice that sounded sincere even to him.

Buffy blinked away tears and they stared into each other’s eyes as Spike cleaned the wound he had caused.

When he was done he dropped his hand to his side and his gaze trailed down to the ground as he realised what kind of filth he was. But then a hand touched his arm and he looked up into Buffy’s sincere eyes. Then he turned his gaze to look at her soft hand rested on his forearm and his cold heart filled with warmth. But, all the same, he stepped back and turned away.

In silence he strolled over to the sink and slowly rinsed the blood out of the rag he had cleaned Buffy’s wounds with, watching the red liquid flow down the plug hole. Disgusted in himself, as even now, a voice in his head told him what a waste it was, to wash the Slayer’s blood away. He envisioned drinking her again; the way he had earlier. What had stopped him? He wondered. Was he even glad he had stopped?

He heard a clatter on the other side of the room and span around to see Buffy, hands trembling as she stared down at the stake she had dropped.

“Uh... Few ground rules,” Spike said, “No stakes during your little stay.”

Buffy’s gaze shot up to Spike’s face and she bent to pick the wooden stick back up. She slipped it back in her pocket, as if trying to make it obvious to him that she wouldn’t trust him, without using words.

“Okay... Good,” Spike continued, “Always be prepared, trust no one, I guess they’re Slayer rules.”

Buffy didn’t reply. She whipped her head around, a small noise catching her attention.

Spike watched her- she looked pretty spooked.

“Slayer-” he said, “You okay?”

She whipped her head back round to face him, bringing her fists up as a reflex, despite the fact that he was on the other side of the room. She stared at him a moment then dropped her fists.

“I’m fine.” she said in a voice that didn’t sound like hers. “You... You don’t mind if I stay here do you?” she asked, “Just for tonight?”

Spike stared at her, his eyebrow raising slightly as her expression remained closed but innocent.

Innocent. He realised- he’d never seen the Slayer look so innocent- or vulnerable. The way she was looking up at him with eyes so expressionless and a face so smile-less made him feel guilty.

He sighed, shaking his head.

“Fine.” he said. “But the Scoobys don’t find out that you were here with me- especially not your new colonel do-gooder.”

Buffy jolted, remembering Riley and her friends. They seemed so far away from her now. She felt so very alone.

But she nodded, agreeing to Spike’s rules.

“They won’t find out.” she said, “I promise.”

Spike nodded too. Then neither knew what to say. Spike looked at Buffy and Buffy looked at Spike, both on opposite sides of the cold crypt.

“Well... You can take my bed.” Spike said eventually. “I never was much of a night sleeper anyway.” He scratched his head uncomfortably. “In fact, I think I might just...” he didn’t finish his sentence as he left the crypt; door slamming behind him.



*All feedback would be greatly appreciated and please keep an eye out for part two*

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