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Escape
 
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A/N: Warning: This chapter get's decidely gross at times. BEWARE!


“Oh god,” Buffy panted as she fell against the sewer wall “Oh god!” She took a few deep breaths that burned her lungs as she slipped her jacket on and buttoned it up tightly. She started running again, faster than before. It didn’t help that she had no idea where she was going. The tunnel was dark and she was finding it increasingly hard to breathe. She was hyperventilating, she knew that. She also knew that she had to get out of this place. Get out of the dark.

Buffy touched her hand against the wall to try and guide herself. Something slimy coated her palm and she yanked it back, disgusted. Her footfalls echoed loudly as her bare feet splashing through the ankle-deep raw sewage. The smell was pungent. She felt the need to vomit, but her need to get to fresh air was stronger so she pushed the rising contents of her stomach back down. Her mind was racing a mile a minute, but the one thought that came through loud and clear was get the hell out of here.

Buffy came to the end of the tunnel and saw there were two possible ways to go from here. She felt herself trembling all over, her heartbeat was thundering in her ears, the muscles in her legs were twitching from their impromptu sprint. Buffy had no idea how long she had been running – it could have been ten minutes, it could have been eternity. She looked left, then right. Neither option looked appealing.

The panic that had washed over her entire body meant she didn’t hear the loud footsteps behind her until it was too late. A heavy weight slammed into the back of her as she started to turn. Buffy fell forwards, the vampire still riding her back. She put her hands out to catch herself but slipped on the watery surface of the sewer tunnel. Her chin hit the metal, jarring her jawbone painfully. Worse still, the excrement all over the floor lapped against her mouth. The smell filled her nose, making her gag as she raised her head up.

The vampire clamped his hand down on her skull and pushed her face back down into the sewage. Buffy kept her mouth and eyes closed as she was submerged in human waste. She wanted to scream but feared what she might find floating into her mouth.

Her arms and feet thrashed around, splashing foul-smelling water everywhere. She had drowned once before but this was one hundred times worse. Death by shit. It just made her life complete.

Buffy reached up behind herself and grabbed the vampire’s wrist. She exerted all of her strength on crushing the bones to powder. By the shriek that reverberated through the tunnel, Buffy guessed she had succeeded. He let go of her and she instantly swept her head up and backwards, slamming it into his nose.

Another shriek and he fell off of her and onto his ass.

Buffy gasped large mouthfuls of air, using her hands to push loose strands of hair from her face. She looked down at her hands. She could only imagine how bad her face looked. Except she didn’t want to imagine, just get out of there.

The Slayer stood shakily, her clothes bogged down with the water, the stench thick in the air and Buffy felt the vomit rise in her throat again.

The vampire, it seemed, wasn’t quite as finished with her as she had thought. He grabbed the back of her neck and slammed her face-first into the tunnel wall. Pain exploded behind her eyes, but she was shoved again. This time her back hit the opposite wall. She let out a strangled cry of pain.

The vampire stood before her, blood sluicing down his face, amber eyes cruel and hungry. Buffy recognised him as one of Spike’s who had assisted in her capture at the Bronze. It was foolish of her to think Spike would let her go that easily. Buffy felt her anger rising again at the memory of him, she gritted her teeth against the pain and landed a snap kick to the vampire’s face. She had no stake so would have to settle for beating it into submission. She clenched her fists, the knuckles cracking. No problem there.

She slammed her fists into the vampire before he could even comprehend recovering. The punches became so fast and so brutal that they blurred into one. The meaty pounding noises of the blows hitting their mark sounded loud and marvellous to her ears. Buffy grunted, sweat pouring down her face and mixing with the other fluids that had soaked into her hair and skin.

Finally the vampire could simply not stand anymore and fell to the floor in a heap. Buffy looked down at him, panting with physical exertion. His face was swollen and bruised so badly that it didn’t even look like a face anymore, didn’t resemble anything human or vampire.

Buffy turned and ran. This time she didn’t care which direction she went in so long as it led her out. She felt blood running down her hands and didn’t know if it was hers or the vampire’s. Didn’t care, either.

A ladder appeared at the end of the tunnel and she let out a breath. She grabbed onto the rungs and climbed up as fast as her shaky legs would carry her. Her feet slid on the metal ladder several times. When she finally reached the top she pushed against the manhole. It didn’t budge. Buffy let out a small sob and pushed on it harder and harder, desperately. Finally, it moved. Only a fraction of an inch but it moved. With renewed vigour she raked her hands across it, dragging it slowly aside, her fingers bleeding from the effort.

Daybreak was approaching outside. She squeezed herself through the space she had made and flopped down onto the grass. The air had never felt fresher. The Slayer rolled herself onto her back, panting and took a moment, before she got onto her hands and knees and retched. The little remaining contents of her stomach spilled up past her lips and onto the green, green, grass of home. The acid burned her throat and mouth, pieces of semi-digested food stuck between her teeth and under her tongue. Splatters of vomit decorated her jacket and pants, mixing with worse things.
She had nothing left to vomit up but her body still tried. Dry heaving, her whole body shook, her ribs seemed to be pressing against her lungs. A thick, viscous stream of bile slithered out of her oesophagus and onto the ground. This made her want to gag even more, the deep, raw sounds escaping from her throat.

Eventually it slowed then stopped.

Buffy pulled in a lungful of fresh air, her throat still burning. Looking around she saw she was in a cemetery. Not a big surprise. She stood still long enough for her head to stop spinning before she began to trudge home.

It would be light soon and that would mean people would be out. People who could see her in this state. People who would be able to smell her from miles away. Her jacket was sodden but there was no way she was taking it off. She reached the street and with each step she took a squelching sound echoed around the empty street.

The Slayer had been humiliated many times in her life but this had to be the worst. It wasn’t just the shit shower she had just taken. In fact, that really didn’t seem like anything compared to what she had been subjected to earlier. The torture, the knife, the taunts. All that she could take.

But he had touched her.

Her jaw tightened just thinking about it, her cut and bruised fists clenching painfully tight. He had touched her back with those cold, dead hands. If she’d had anything left to hurl, the mere reminder of the feeling of his skin against hers would have brought it up. No one had touched her like that for so long. His fingers had felt cool and gentle against her spine.

Buffy ground her teeth together and carried on down the road as fast as she could. It was no good dwelling on how it felt to be touched again. She didn’t want to think about it because if she thought about, she would have to deal with it. She so didn’t feel like dealing with it at that moment.

However, it wasn’t like she could constrict her own thoughts and eventually they drifted back to Spike. Or, more accurately, his reaction. Laughter, teasing, overpowering joy...she had expected. He was, after all, a particularly vicious vampire bastard. Yet all he had seemed was saddened.

In some ways that pissed her off more. If Spike, of all non-people, was feeling sorry for her then she truly had lost every modicum of dignity. Buffy looked down at herself covered in shit and piss. No doubt about that.

A man appeared running up the street, an early-morning jogger. Buffy cursed inwardly. As he got closer he seemed to notice that she was soaked. Then he got closer and it hit him. His nose wrinkled up and he eyed her with disgust. Speeding up he veered out onto the road to run around her.

The Slayer clenched and unclenched her fists.

Her house loomed in the near distance. She wandered aimlessly towards it. Buffy had expected to feel relief but she didn’t really feel much of anything. Just tired and disgusted at herself. The physical exertion of her escape, not to mention her grapple with Spike and his cronies had started to take its toll.

She stumbled inside the house closing the door quietly behind her. Her feet were mostly dry by now but discoloured water and god knows what else still dripped from her onto her mother’s beige carpeting. Buffy ascended the stairs slowly, gripping onto the banister for support. Her heart-rate and breathing had both slowed but her muscles and joints burned and there was a dull ache coming from her head. Buffy reached the bathroom door before her mother called out.

“Buffy? Is that you?” Joyce’s voice was concerned, and half-drowsy from sleep.

The Slayer stepped into the bathroom and slammed the door shut as her only answer. Walking over to the bath she turned the shower head on. Her fists were clenched hard, her entire body shaking as she thought about the look on Spike’s face she had seen right before she had run.

Pity.

Pity from a soulless demon.

Buffy’s fist smashed into the bathroom tiles before she even realised what she had done. They shattered, pieces falling down into the bath with a loud clatter. Her hand started bleeding all over again, a shudder running up the bones in her arm. She was shaking again but this time it was from anger. How dare he feel sorry for her?

Pure rage coursed through her veins. She hadn’t felt this way in a long time. She hadn’t felt much at all for a long time. Funny, how it took sympathy from a vampire she hated to get her anger back. To get any kind of feeling back.

She undressed and carefully got into the bath. She felt too exhausted to even stand and so ended up sitting in the corner of the tub with ice cold water beating down on her. One thing was clear though, as she washed it all away – she would see Spike again, and when she did he was going to die.

Buffy watched as the brown water swirled around the plughole and disappeared.


 
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