Buffy knew one thing for sure – she didn’t want Spike to come anywhere near her. The long knife he held in his hand glinted in the candlelight menacingly. How she had got herself into this mess, she didn’t know. Well, actually she did. She had been sloppy. What had she been thinking going into the Bronze when she knew there was a vampire inside? She hadn’t done a proper perimeter sweep, hadn’t kept close to an exit, hadn’t even had her stake out until it was too late. Stupid and careless.

She might have gotten away with it if it had been some minor vampire but, for all the cracks she used to make about him, Spike always came prepared. He always had minions, always had back-up. Something that she had lost in the past year. Her friends used to patrol with her a lot but after her increasingly anti-social attitude they’d all begun to leave well enough alone. She liked it that way, most of the time. Slaying was a time when she could be alone, could be quiet, could still feel powerful.

Now she was feeling the complete opposite; helpless. She was trussed up in a vampire’s lair like some typical damsel in distress. Buffy scowled, she was the Slayer. She could handle Spike. He was nothing special. Even as she thought that, a nagging little voice in her head reminded her that this so-not-special vampire had killed two Slayers in the past.

Buffy locked eyes with him, a mocking grin still fixed to his face. Slayer killer or not, she couldn’t wait to wipe that grin off his face. Rip his fangs out and ground them into the floor.

Spike took another step forward and she shifted backwards instinctively “Come on, Slayer, make your choice. What’ll it be first? A finger? An eye? Oh, how ’bout one of them little toes I was enjoying so much?”

Buffy grimaced at the suggestion. The way he had touched her earlier had almost made her throw up. The bile had risen in her throat, and did so again now at the memory. It wasn’t just that he was a vampire, and Spike, but that she didn’t completely understand how he could bear to touch her in that way. He was an evil, soulless, creature but surely even he would be repulsed at the very idea of her. He still had his looks; death hadn’t taken away the blueness of his eyes, the sleek curves of his cheekbones, the smooth marble of his skin.

She, on the other hand, had lost all of her vibrancy. Everything that made her real, tangible, alive. So much so that even a walking corpse like Spike had one over on her now. Buffy had never thought of herself as a great beauty or anything like that, but she had known she was pretty. Now, she couldn’t even remember what that felt like. So, why he touched her like she was still sexual confused and disgusted her.

“Get the hell away from me, Spike,” Buffy seethed through gritted teeth “I mean it.”

He just laughed, like he always did “Oh, well, why didn’t you just say? If you mean it then I guess I’ll just cut you down and let you go. Or, you know, not.”

She balled her fists, the chains rattling “You might as well just kill me then because I won’t play your games. I won’t scream for you and I won’t cry.”

“No? You think you’re that tough?”

“No,” Buffy shook her head “I think I don’t care enough.”

Spike frowned, running a finger absently down the blade “What’s that mean?”

“You can’t hurt me, Spike. There’s nothing left of me to hurt.”

He smiled slowly “Looks like there’s a fair bit left to me.”

“Physically, maybe,” Buffy pulled on her chains, loosening the fixtures in the ceiling “But that’s not enough for you, is it? You don’t just want my body you want my mind; my soul.”

Spike paused, as if thinking hard “Actually, I’ll settle for just your body,” he grinned.

Buffy shook her head “If that was the truth you would have started cutting me already. You want to play mind games.”

The vampire paused again before nodding in agreement. He started to pace, walking slowly around her in circles. Buffy tensed when he came around behind her. She couldn’t guard against any sort of attack from him and feeling his presence so close without being able to watch him was infuriating and, she had to admit, frightening. She wasn’t afraid for her life, but rather, for the last remaining shred of dignity she clung to.

Suddenly the cold blade of the knife was pressing against the back of her neck. Her spine straightened.

“You’ve got lovely long hair, Slayer,” Spike told her, his other hand gripping the ponytail tightly “I think maybe I’d like to keep it for a souvenir.”

Buffy’s jaw clenched “You think you’re powerful, but you’re not. I have all the power. I always have and I always will.”

A laugh came from behind her. “Really? You look sort of powerless from where I’m standing, love.”

“You might think you’re in charge, but you’re not,” Buffy told him, trying hard to keep her breathing even, “because you can torture me all you like but you’ll never get what you want.”

His chest was pressing lightly against her back as he whispered in her ear “And what, pray tell, is that?”

“My respect,” she said softly.

Spike laughed, his chest shaking against her “You think I want your respect? I couldn’t care less about what a little Slayer bitch thinks of me.”

“So, why haven’t you killed me then?” Buffy clenched her fists “I’ll tell you why – because you’re not man enough to do the job. You’re not a man, you’re not anything. You’re something that people wipe off their shoes. A piece of shit.”

“That so?” Spike growled in her ear, the blade suddenly pressing against her throat “Want to say that again, Slayer?”

Buffy swallowed, her skin grazed along the knife “You’re nothing to me.”

Spike yanked her hair hard pulling her head back till it was almost resting on his shoulder. He had morphed into vampire face and his fangs were sharp and gleaming, only inches from her neck. The vampire leaned in and sniffed her. Buffy closed her eyes. Then Spike stopped suddenly; his face melded back into smooth lines and blue eyes.

He smiled “I see what you’re doing. You think that by pissing me off I’ll finish you quicker. Oldest trick in the book, that. Can’t believe I almost fell for it.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t fall for it. You’re an idiot!” She spat, jaw tight.

Spike smiled; pulling her head back farther he looked in her eyes “You’re a peach, Slayer. Always keepin’ me on my toes. I might have to keep you around. You make a nice decoration for the lair. A party piece I can show all my friends.”

He leaned down, nestling his face in the junction between her neck and shoulder. Buffy frowned and tried to shake herself free. His contact was making her skin crawl. She assumed he was going to bite her but instead he licked a long, wet, line up her neck. Buffy let out a small scream and tried to pull away from him.

Spike took a step back, and moved back around in front of her, smiling “No need to make such a fuss, I wasn’t going to bite you.”

“What you were doing was a lot worse” Buffy replied angry and flustered.

He laughed “Oh, right, ’cos you’re too good for a vampire. Anyone here remember a certain dark-haired nancy boy of a vampire you gave it up to a couple of years ago?”

“I’m not too good for a vampire,” she sneered, her heart still hammering from his touch “I’m too good for you.”

Spike brandished the knife again “Well, then I suppose we’ll just have to bring you down to my level.”

Before Buffy even realised what was happening he slashed the knife down the front of her. She screwed her eyes shut and waited for the pain. All she could hear was her own heavy breathing and the pounding of her heart. After a few moments she opened her eyes and looked down. He hadn’t cut her but he had sliced her shirt open. Somehow that was even worse.

“Don’t.” She warned as a flush crept up her neck.

“Why not?” Spike asked, playfully “I’m likin’ the view so far”

Buffy felt her whole face grow hot. No one other than herself and her mother had seen her in any state of undress for the past year. The last person she wanted to be exposing her less-than-sexy underwear to was Spike.

He placed the blade lightly against her collarbone and slowly dragged it down. She knew that one sharp outtake of breath would be enough to cut her. The knife settled over her breasts and Buffy clenched her fists, pulling with all her might on the chains.

“You’re all skin and bones, Slayer” Spike noted eyes most definitely not looking in the direction of her face “What happened to all those lovely curves?”

She bit down on the inside of her mouth to stop herself from making some remark, or worse, crying. Buffy wasn’t afraid of dying, or even afraid of Spike. She was scared that she’d lost control over her own life; her own body. Control was a very important thing to her these days and hanging here like some scarecrow, her fate in Spike’s hands, she didn’t feel much in control. Despite her earlier words.

“Well,” Spike looked up into her eyes “Maybe it gets better. Let’s take off this top, shall we?”

“No!” Buffy practically screamed, then realised her mistake.

By giving Spike a reaction she had only provoked him further to do the complete opposite of what she wanted. He grinned devilishly. Throwing the knife to one side, perhaps sensing that she was more threatened by his bare hands then a piece of metal, Spike moved to undress her.

“Spike,” she breathed, unable to keep the desperation out of her voice “Don’t. Don’t do this.”

“Come on now, Buffy” He murmured his eyes skating over her collarbone as his hands went to her shoulders “What’s a little skin between sworn enemies?”

Buffy struggled harder then she thought possible, inching the fixtures out of the ceiling, thrashing like a caged animal to get away from his touch. He backhanded her and she saw stars for a few moments. It was enough to placate her long enough for Spike to begin pulling her shirt from her shoulders.

Her breathing doubled, her pulse was thrumming in her ears and every nerve in her body was telling her to away, to run.

She did what she had to.

“Please.”

Spike stopped and looked up, slowly. The expression on his face was slight confusion which rapidly turned to utter delight. His eyes sparkled as they surveyed her defeated expression, the pleading in her eyes. He tapped a finger against his chin “Hang on a mo’, is that the sound of a Slayer begging I hear?”

“Don’t do this,” Buffy swallowed, keeping eye contact “Kill me, cut me, but not this.”

“Hmm, let me consider”

Spike turned around, his back facing her. It lasted but a few moments before he turned back, wolf grin on his face “Nah!”

Buffy drew in a breath and when he took a step back towards her she lashed out at him with her feet, shaking and thrashing. Spike punched her in the stomach hard, grabbed her shirt and ripped it off. She was left with only a few shreds of material still clinging to her. The dank air rushed up against her bare back and Buffy’s head hung down low, defeated.

“There, now. Not so terrible, is it?” Spike looked her over “Not as bad as I thought. Bit skinny but then, so was Dru. Let’s have a proper look at you, shall we?”

Her spine straightened and her head rose back up. She met his face with a look of complete contempt. It was all she had left now. Spike seemed a little taken aback at first, though she didn’t know why, before his arrogant expression returned and Spike started to circle her.