Spuffy: Dark City Chapter Two

CHAPTER 2 –

“Giles, we’re fine,” Buffy assured her Watcher and boss for the umpteenth time. “Nothing happened.”

Giles paced back and forth in the dilapidated police station – the building they had taken over as their headquarters after it was abandoned. “Even so, Buffy, I would prefer if you and Xander did not attempt any more heroics with this Spike character until we know more about him.”

“You would have sent us out there eventually to try to make a deal with him anyway. We chose sooner rather than later.”

Giles walked away from her, supposedly back towards the room that held what was left of his journals, “But Buffy, we don’t know where this Spike has come from . . .”

“Does it matter!?” Buffy interrupted, following him. “It’s the same thing that’s been going on for years, Giles: Some new bad guy overthrows the old bad guy, we go and make some sort of deal with him; pretend we have a leg to stand on. Spike has managed to defeat the old leader, something we’ve never managed to come close to.”

Giles cleaned his glasses, “You should have gone earlier in the day and with more backup if you were going at all.”

“Backup from whom exactly? The few innocent people that we have left here?” She threw an arm out, gesturing to the two dozen or so ragged people shuffling dazedly around them. “Half of them sneak out at night to hit vampire hangouts to barter their own blood for food and clothing!” Giles didn’t meet her eyes and when he turned to walk away from her again, Buffy jumped in front of him. “And where exactly did you plan on getting more information about him? The school library burned down years ago with all your precious books in it! We don’t have any friends here, no support! The rest of the world pretends we don’t exist!” Buffy inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself after her outburst, diverting her eyes from her Watcher, “And sometimes I wish we didn’t either,” she stated softly.

Giles’ eyes instantly widened in concern; he had seen her stressed before, but never so vacant of hope, “Buffy . . .”

She held her hand up to stop him, “Aren’t you tired of always being on the defense, waiting for them to make the next move?” Giles rolled his head, looking around helplessly. He opened his mouth to speak, but Buffy shook him off. Nothing he could say to her right now would make any of this okay. She stalked towards the door, grabbing her tattered leather coat along the way. “Don’t worry, Giles. I’ll get you your deal.”

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She must have been threatened, propositioned, and cursed hundreds of times on her walk outside, well past dark. But Buffy didn’t hear any of them. Something in her stride must have told the demons surrounding her to leave her alone. Besides, they weren’t starving; they had plenty of other victims at their disposal.

The only thing lighting her path on the streets were fires, either coming from the flames of burning buildings or metal drums in alleyways. Burning. Always burning. How was anything in this town still standing? If she stayed alive long enough, would the town just burn itself to the ground around her? Probably not. Every few years another evil leader thought he’d build himself a metropolis and forced hundreds of slaves, human or otherwise, to erect structures in his honor. Just when Buffy thought it would all come crumbling down, something would build it back up again.

Once again crossing the same parking lot she and Xander had traversed hours earlier, not a single crony, even as she let herself into the building of their all-powerful leader, attempted to harass her, probably dumbfounded with the gall of this girl.

In the warehouse, Buffy did not meet the emptiness of earlier. Instead, it looked like Spike was having a moving-in party. Hundreds of bodies filled the main room, very few of them taking any notice of her. Buffy stood in the entranceway, taking in her surroundings. Despite the chill she got from the room, most were scantily clad, black being the color palate. There was a loud buzz of conversation in the air over the throbbing of the music being piped in from somewhere near the ceiling. Some were grinding on each other, others milled around with champagne glasses filled to the brim with various shades of red, wine or blood (or both), Buffy wasn’t sure. And if she would have looked harder, various sex acts were being performed around the room. From this throng he emerged.

Gone were the black jeans, t-shirt, and leather trench coat from earlier. Now he wore black leather pants and a midnight blue sleeved shirt with a sort of celtic-looking design traced on it in black that clung to his lean form.

Spike, taking her in, shook his head, “Isn’t safe for you to be out after dark little girl.”

“I can take care of myself,” she assured him, ignoring the dangerous group that now watched them with interest.

“A little chattier on this trip, I see. Barely said two words to me last we met, let wonder-boy play bad cop.” He circled her.

“It’s not that,” she answered coolly, “I just don’t justify stupidity with a response.”

He sucked in a false breath, “And the lady gets defensive,” he noticed, “Must have spoken some truths earlier tonight.”

He turned and the crowd parted, revealing a sort of throne in the middle of the room. Around him were a bevy of women – some human, some vampire, Buffy’s senses couldn’t distinguish which was which. The crowd that had been watching them, probably realizing their boss wasn’t going to give them the go-ahead to attack, quickly lost interest and resumed talking in low murmurs and rubbing against each other. Buffy smelt the thick stench of drugs all around her.

“So where is your little boyfriend?” he asked, looking behind her for Xander. When she didn’t respond he studied her, tilting his head to the side, “You know I won’t make deals with him,” he observed.

“But you’ll make a deal with me,” she replied confidently.

His brow arched, “Will I now? Don’t you know that the word ‘Slayer’ doesn’t strike fear into the undead hearts like it did years ago?”

Spike slowly slid a hand from his belt buckle up his torso, smiling in satisfaction as Buffy watched, riveted yet again. Bringing his hand up next to his chiseled cheekbone, he snapped his fingers. Instantly, a woman rose from the group behind him. Pushing her long black hair behind her shoulders, Buffy saw that she was naked from the waist up. Silently, she placed herself in front of Spike and quickly fell to her knees, pulling down the zipper of his jeans expertly, her mouth swiftly latching on to his cock.

He closed his eyes in pleasure. A minute passed, seemingly forgetting Buffy was there, rotating his hips into the woman’s eager mouth. When he opened his eyes again, Buffy could see they had darkened four shades.

“What do you want?” Buffy breathed, determined to keep her eyes on his face and ignore the woman’s actions before him.

“What I want,” he stated, voice dropping a register, “You’re not ready to give me . . . yet.”

“I think I’ll decide what I am and am not willing to do.”

He shook his head as if he were tsking a small child, “Little girl, you don’t know what you’re playing at.” He pushed the woman off him and stood, fixing his pants.

“I’ll learn the rules as I go,” she assured him, keeping her eyes up.

“That’s just it,” he clapped his hands in front of her, making her jump; “there are no rules. That’s the thing you white hats don’t understand. You can fight and fight and fight and it doesn’t change a thing.” His eyes shifted focus. He reached up and twirled a strand of Buffy’s hair in his fingertips distractedly. She stiffened, but didn’t move away. “I could show you so many things,” he whispered and Buffy fought the urge to lean into his hand. Suddenly, he snapped out of his trace, “When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting. The girls would love to have you,” he added, smiling.

The prostitutes behind him murmured their approval.

“Sorry, I don’t swing that way,” she ground out.

“Oh, but you would. For me. I’d get you so worked up you’d take anything I give you up that wet pussy of yours.” His hands didn’t touch her, but Buffy distinctly felt of wave of something wash over her extremities. Trying to shake the unnerving feeling, she broke their eye contact, looking over his shoulder. She blinked.

Behind him, mixing in with his masses, she saw a group of men. Men she knew. They were some of the “good guys” – those people she had fought side by side with when they had last attempted to revolt. They were some of the most dedicated to the cause of good she knew, besides Xander and Giles. One of them had lost two of his brothers in those battles, the other a wife and sister. Now, here they were. Still human, from what Buffy could tell, but playing on the dark side. With those that had killed their loved ones.

Spike saw the recognition in her eyes.

“Your legal system isn’t as innocent as you thought, sweetheart.”

Buffy didn’t look at him. “The girls – the human ones – why not turn them?” she asked distractedly.

“The warm bodies and blood,” he answered plainly. “When you pierce their skin at just the right moment, they’re so beautiful when they cum. I could make you cum like that.”

He raked his fingers through her hair, tilting her head, placing his lips next to her exposed ear, “You’d be my favorite,” he whispered hotly, nipping at her earlobe.

“You’d kill me?” she accused, but still caught up in the trance somehow.

“Turn you? Christ, no. That way every month, when that warm blood of yours seeps from between your thighs I can be there to catch it. Imagine it, Buffy. You’d spend all week in bed, covered in silk sheets. I’d bring you anything you wanted, chocolate, sweet treats you haven’t tasted since you were a little girl. You’d be my Princess.”

His words were full of promise and he didn’t look disappointed, even as she backed away. Her entire head felt jumbled and she tripped rushing out the door, not turning her back to him until the last possible moment. She wasn’t concerned about the vampires around her. He’d give her safe passage back to headquarters.

As she made her way back to the old police station, Buffy couldn’t even recall what she had come there for, not like it mattered anymore.

TBC