A/N: Inner thoughts are in italics. Dialogue credited to BTVS: ‘Chosen’ and my own ‘Poetry Slam.’ This chapter contains sexual situations, so purely NC-17…but then again the whole fic is rated that, but I wanted to emphasize this.

Chapter Nine

~@~@~@~@
(Rome, Italy)

Curled up on the green plush chair in the makeshift sitting area, Buffy reflected on the past 24 hours.

When Dawn had first awoken, she was still drowsy from the drug these ‘lawyers’ had given her. Buffy had scoped out a medicine cabinet and found some aspirin, but she wasn’t about to trust any medicine they put forth. Instead, she found a washcloth, wet it, and used it to cool Dawn’s forehead hoping to prevent any headaches.

Dawnie, of course, wanted to seriously put a hurt on anyone and anything when she became fully aware of what had happened. Learning that the Immortal helped kidnap them royally brought her Summers’ temper in; full force. Her eyes flashed with a hurt that looked so much like Spike’s it tore at her heart even more.

Neither of them liked him at first. They had moved to Rome for Dawn’s studies. Buffy had been emotionally numb since Spike’s death, well romantically at least. She did feel free to do things she never thought she would be able to do, like travel, and see Europe. The only downside to having that freedom was she didn’t have Spike by her side.

She tried to put on a brave front like she always did. Only Dawn really knew how she cried at night; how the nightmares of repeatedly seeing his hand ignite in hers and him telling her, “No you don’t. But thanks for saying it,” haunted her, night after night. But even Dawn didn’t know about that last night, the night before she lost him.

***FLASHBACK***

Standing across from him in her basement, he stood before her. She knew that he would be happy to merely hold her for the night as he had the past several nights. As he stood there, she could almost picture the man he once was, the man he had become, and the man he was destined to be, and it astounded her. He had done it for her, to be hers, to be given such a gift, and only now here at the end to really appreciate it. But still he stood there, anxious to see what her move would be. Here stood the man, yep, no longer just a vampire to her, a man who pieced her back together the other night and helped her regain her confidence when she so desperately needed it, he was always there. He never left, only that one time, when he went out to get a soul for her.

Standing there, she realized that yes, she loved him, the whole package, and tonight she would show him.

Buffy had caressed his cheek, then moved her fingers to the curls on the nape of his neck, “Kiss me.”

He had smirked before pleasuring her with one of his knee quivering kisses. God, he could kiss. She had learned that during Willow’s ‘Will Be Done’ spell but foolishly tried to deny it for so long afterwards.

Pushing him back onto his cot, she removed her white sweater. She hissed as she felt his cold hands rub her nipples through the material of her simple cotton bra. And just like that, a flood of wetness dampened her panties. He could arouse her in the simplest of ways, sometimes with just a look, sometimes watching him fight, and now here with his touch.

He leaned forward nuzzling her stomach and growling, causing wicked sensations throughout her body but especially to her most sensitive.

“Spike,” she moaned. Leaning down, she nibbled his earlobe, which always drove him to distraction.

“Slayer,” he sing-songed back to her. Using his hands, he swiftly undid her pants, and she kicked them somewhere to the side. Then he ripped her underwear from body.

Damn. Oh well, if she died tomorrow, she wouldn’t need to shop for more anyway. She tugged at his black tee shirt that seemed permanently attached to his rock-hard body. Whimpering got his attention, and he complied by raising his arms for her to remove his shirt. Oooo…delicious. She bent down to taste the skin on his chest, teasing one of his nipples.

At that, he flipped her onto the cot causing her to momentarily lose her breath. While she recovered, he had already removed her bra and had one nipple in his mouth tweaking the other between his thumb and finger. His demin-clad cock was hitting her clit. Damn! What are his jeans still doing on!

As much as, oh yes, that felt good, she really wanted to feel more of him, but he wasn’t pushing the issue due to what had happened last year. Trailing her fingers down his back, to his waist, she manipulated his belt buckle and unzipped his jeans, releasing his cock into her ready hand. He stopped with a questioning look in his eyes. In answer to his question, she began to move her hand on his cock, to use her feet to push down his jeans, and eagerly press her lips to his in a hungry kiss.

When she broke the kiss for much needed air, he moved to kiss and nip at her neck and breasts. Again he gazed up, but this time his face contained a demon’s mischief. Oh, she was in for it now! Even though his lips were cool, her skin seemed to sizzle with each kiss as he moved further down her torso.

The menace teased her with that talented tongue of his, swirling it in ways that reminded her of Heaven. Pulling on his bleached locks, she locked her knees around his head, so happy that he didn’t need to breathe. She had so missed this! Trembling, she found herself coming hard into his waiting mouth. Of course, he had to smirk at her, coated with her juices.

Jerking him back to her lips, she kissed him tasting herself. Before he could get settled, she flipped him to where she was on top. Smiling wickedly, Buffy grabbed his cock, positioned herself over him, and then slowly inched herself down onto him. His girth stretched her walls, and his length reached her in places no one else ever had reached.

His eyes had rolled back in his head, and his hands strayed to her hips urging her to move. Varying the pace, she started to ride him quicker placing her hands on his chest for support. Spike shifted his hips, raising himself to a seated position, and kissed her lips.

Sitting astride his lap with him nuzzling her breast, a sudden urgency overwhelmed her. She needed more. She needed to tell him, show him, and give herself to him. Purposefully slowing her rhythm, Buffy waited for him to turn his sapphire eyes up to her face.

Studying his face, wanting to savor each moment, she whispered, “I want you to make me your girl.”

For a moment, he eyes shone, but then dulled. “You don’t mean it, luv,” he replied.

His expression echoed the same one he had after she told him she was just using him after she had helped blow up his crypt. God, could she have been any more a bitch. Watching Spike quickly cover his true emotions, Buffy realized just how emotionally scarred her vampire really was, and her heart felt heavy with the guilt of her contribution to those scars.

Inspiration struck. The words came to her; she suddenly knew what to say. She urgently whispered, “Yes, I do. I want it more than anything. This may be our last night. I am yours, William. I am yours, Spike.”

Keeping her slow rhythm, Buffy watched as Spike shifted into his beautiful game-face. She had always secretly thought that for some reason he always had the most beautiful vamp face, even when she first met him.

“Tell me you love me,” he pressed as his pelvic bone hit her clit.

Could he read her mind? Did he know that she had just thought of that moment too? Should have known he would have that memorized, but she’d surprise him by showing him that she did too! Not able to stop the smile forming on her face, she replied, “I love you. You know I do.”

“Tell me you want me.”

As she said this, she allowed the truth to fill the words, she hoped he picked up on it, “I always want you. In point of fact…”

“Good enough.”

Buffy felt his fangs enter neck where it had been marred by the Master and Dracula. Even though her Slayer instinct should have been screaming at her for allowing him to bite her as it had the three previous times, this time her Primal Slayer self arched closer to his fangs.

After she felt out him pull her blood from her body, he demanded, “MINE.”

None of her previous bites had been anything like this. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, in time with pace of their bodies joining, his cock hitting her cervix. Spike’s hands seemed everywhere at once – her arms, her breasts, her back, her hair, her ass, her stomach. All the while his tongue lapped more blood, each time causing a deep pull in her loins.

What? Her Primal Slayer instructed her. Licking her lips, she latched her teeth onto his alabaster skin. Biting harder than probably necessary, she smiled inwardly when his blood pooled into her mouth. Swallowing a bit, she removed her mouth to clearly state, “MINE.”

Spike growled in her ear, and her womb quivered in responding climax as his filled her. Her inner muscles squeezed and milked his cock for the last of its spendings. Meeting his stare, she found love in his sapphire depths.

***End of Flashback***

Later that night, she had coaxed him into marking her over Angel’s bite. Now she rubbed both sides of her neck through her black turtleneck sweater.

The first few hours after being rejoined with Dawn, she went into recognizance mode. Searching the prison apartment, she discovered hidden cameras and microphones. When she had ripped out the first microphone, Miss Voice had immediately squawked that she stop removing them. Two burly, but Italian-suited goons entered the apartment, guns drawn, with a techie-type, who replaced the mike.

Earlier, she had also found one camera in the bathroom, which she promptly had obliterated into a million little pieces. Now it was a safe place to at least shower and pee. No one was going to tape her Dawnie using the bathroom. That was just too much!

When Miss Voice had come on, she let her have it with both barrels. Asking Miss Thang if she would like her own lawsuit about taping an underage girl basically in the realm of pornography, not to mention additional damages of taping her without her consent. She had listened to Willow rant about child internet pornography many times, that it she guessed had soaked into her brain, because legal jargon spewed out of her mouth, enough that Miss Voice, Miss CEO of Evil Lawyers, Inc. shut the hell up and didn’t replace the bathroom camera. Score one for the Buffster, Buffy the Evil Lawyer Slayer!

Still microphones were embedded in all parts of the furnished prison apartment, so they had to be careful about their conversations. If they truly wanted a private conversation, they went to the bathroom and turned the water on full blast, but nevertheless keeping their voices lowered.

Buffy came out of her reverie as the door to their cell opened, and two men entered. Both men were different from those who had come before; however, that wasn’t unusual. One pushed a food cart; he was heavy set, and looked stupid, in an old black-n-white movie comedy ‘stupid crook’ sort of way. He obviously deferred to the other one who walked with a cane.

Mr. Cane had salt and pepper hair cut messily short with a beard to match. Unlike the others at this firm, this guy wore a worn heather-gray wool jacket and jeans. Also unlike the others, he looked straight at her. This drew her attention even more to him, which made her realize that it wasn’t a limp that caused him to walk with the assistance with the cane; he wore prosthetics on both legs.

“How did you lose your legs?” she couldn’t resist asking. She knew that all her conversations were monitored and that these ‘helpers’ were directed not to speak to her. None of them had, so she just had to see if she could get this one to.

“Little lady, now that was a rude question.” He hobbled over toward her. He then motioned to Stupid to bring the cart over to him. To Stupid, “Wait for me at the door, I need to correct Miss Summers on her rudeness.”

Buffy at first couldn’t believe that he responded to her question and then got suspiciously angry at what he implied to Stupid. Dawn had noticed the unusual interaction and had moved from sitting on the edge of the bed to a defensive position behind her. Good.

“Miss Summers, and ah, I see your sister has joined us.”

“Leave her out of this, don’t speak to her,” she interrupted him.

“Of course.” He lowered his voice noticeably; “Damn it girl, wise up and play along. You think just anyone here would speak to you.” Louder, “Miss Summers, it is rude to address me in such a manner. And here I am to serve you a nice dinner of your favorites.”

Buffy closely observed as he raised the lids to one of the entrée plates, his wrist sleeve raised just slightly showing a weird looking blue tattoo with a Celtic looking circle enclosing a blue W, but more importantly inside the lid cover was a note. She looked up into Cane Man’s face and saw an urgent but kind expression on his face.

Opting to play along as if she didn’t see the hidden note, she coyly said, “Oooo goody. Look Dawn at the yummy goodness, aren’t we fortunate! So how did you lose the legs?”

“Vietnam.”

“Oh, sorry.” Buffy actually felt a little tinge of regret, but then again this guy was working here for her abductors. Regardless of what he said in the lowered voice, she’d been played too many times in her recent history to just listen to someone who told her too. Yep, Rupert would be proud. Heh, Spike would be even prouder. Spike. Her heart ached for him; but now was not the time to dwell on what she would like to do when she finally saw him again. Well, if he’d let her that is.

“Well, you’re highness, you and the princess will be so happy to know that I’ll be your regular server from here on out. Franz, who doesn’t speak any English,” he said with a nod, “will be assisting me. You can call me Joe.”

“So Joe, what d’ya know?” she giggled.

She couldn’t help it. His name just brought out her inner Xander, and God what an awful image that conjured in her mind. Yuck. Oooo, Snoopy dance. I wander if Spike would do a naked Snoopy dance for me…yummy naked Spike parts, dancing.

Her mind felt a definite sharp rebuke, as if Spike was telling her, ‘No bloody way in hell!’ about the Snoopy dance. Well, that was certainly different. Okay no time to focus on what that meant, back to business. Be serious Slayer Buffy now.

Joe and Dawn were both looking at her strangely. She must have zoned out there for a second. “Sorry, must be the low blood sugar. You were saying?” Dawnie kept giving her a weird look, so she tried to signal to her to leave it alone for now.

Joe continued, “Like I said, I’ll be by later to collect the plates. My ‘boss’ will be happy to note that both of you look well.” Buffy again felt that when he said ‘boss’ he wasn’t meaning Wolfram & Hart or Miss Mysterious Voice. She had to find a way to read that letter without the monitors catching her doing so.

“Oh yeah, confinement just does wonders for our complexions. I hear it’s the latest spa treatment. Don’t you, Dawnie?”

“Umm, yeah, Buffy…what you said.”

“I will see you later, Miss Summers.” With that Joe departed.

“Buffy, what in the world….” Buffy brushed her bangs away from her face, interrupting Dawn. That was their signal to stop any conversation until they got to a safe spot.

“Dawnie, let’s just see what exactly we have to eat first, okay.” She gave her one of Joyce’s best ‘I want no arguments young lady’ looks. Dawn immediately took the cue, realizing the seriousness of the look and the request behind it, and joined Buffy at the food cart.

Carefully lifting each lid off their respective plates, Buffy saw that each dish contained either her or Dawn’s favorite foods. She did not flip the lids to look underneath them in case the hidden cameras had zoom lenses. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to covertly feel under them either to see if any others possessed a note. Stacking them could ruin ink possibly, so she took each one over to the bed. If Dawn found that odd, she didn’t let on, because Dawn was already digging into one of her dishes.

“Ummm, Dawnie.”

With her mouth full of food, so typical Dawn, even more mature, “Mm…yeah?”

“I’m just going to eat on the bed tonight, okay. I don’t feel like eating at the table. I’ll be sure to clear off any crumbs.”

“M’okay.” Said Dawn, taking in another forkful of food.

Buffy helped herself to a small plate of her favorites and settled herself on the bed. She made a big production for the cameras of arranging the lids to serve as a makeshift food tray, which enabled her to feel underneath each one. Those that didn’t have a note underneath, she stacked on top of another.

Two had notes. Those she surreptitiously slipped into her long-sleeved black sweater. Hey, she did learn Spike’s slight-of-hand! Fake stretching; she made sure they stayed in her sleeves, while she ate.

Finishing her food as quickly, but as unsuspicious a manner as possible, which was extremely hard to do, Buffy made her way to the bathroom.

Opening the first note, she gasped in surprise. Quickly flushing the toilet to cover her gasp, she began to read.

The heart that now only sees half of everything sends his regards.
Friend of Eve’s husband.

I’m one who records & keeps a diary.

That note ended due to length of paper, she quickly unfolded the second.

Remember Cleveland Rocks!

An Observer

Turning on the sink, Buffy began to cry. Xander! This guy, if this wasn’t a trick, was sent by Xander and Adam and on top of all that was a Watcher. She and Dawn were no longer alone here. Relief filled her body, as her tears ran down her face.

Upon hearing the sink, Dawn came into the bathroom.

“Buffy, are you okay?” she said loudly for the microphones in the other room.

“No, Dawnie, I think I have an upset stomach. Too much good food.” Buffy responded equally as loud. She handed over the notes to her to read.

Wiping away her tears, she watched as Dawn’s face went from incredulity to barely contained elation. Nodding after Dawn mouthed in question, “Xander? Adam? Watcher? Joe?” She ran and hugged Buffy tight.

Drying her tears, Buffy signaled to calm down. Running water over the notes, Buffy wet the paper and swallowed them in order to assure herself that no one would find them. Putting her arm around Dawn, together they returned to the main room more hopeful about the future.

--tbc--

A/N: Here I officially disclaim that I do not own Joe Dawson. He is the property of Highlander: The Series and Davis-Panzer Productions.
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