SUMMARY: After the 'My Will be Done' incident, Willow tries
to make it up to her friends by taking over Spike-sitting duties for a
while. Spike sees this as an opportunity for escape but gets more
than he bargained for. This is NOT going to be a warm, fuzzy fic,
but not terribly dark either.
~~ Part 1 ~~
DEDICATION: To Stasia because I think she writes like an angel, Carla because she made me Spike's wench, and all the girls at THP for putting up with me lately.
Bloody hell...how did I let this happen? When did I lose control?
I was so damn cocky it was laughable. Looking back now, I know I had sod-all to be cocky about, considering what the GI Joes did to me and all. I guess you can take the bite out of the vampire but never the arrogance. It comes with the fangs, you know? Even the lowest newborn vamp feels like he can take on the Slayer by himself. Built-in population control, I suppose.
So, when exactly did I lose control? Was it when the witch's spell backfired, forcing me down on my knees in front of the Slayer, professing my undying love? Hell, no. That was nothing compared to what I was about to go through. No, maybe I wasn't exactly in control then, but that was a spell--not my bloody fault whatsoever. If I'd only known then how much worse it could get, I would have gone gleefully skipping into the sun.
Unfortunately, I didn't.
It was two days after the witch undid her botched spell that I began to become the pathetic excuse for a demon that I am today.
You see, I was back to being chained up in the librarian's tub. Being quite an unimaginative lot, they still hadn't figured out what to do with me. So, I was lying there, bored out of my undead mind, plotting all their grisly deaths, when she walked in.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I...I just thought maybe you were hungry," Willow said, raising the 'Kiss the Librarian' mug that I detested. Come on, couldn't they at least put it in a pint glass? Bloody hell...I'd drink it straight out the bucket if they'd let me...or right from the bloody pig itself.
"Wasn't sleeping, just resting my eyes," I informed her, snatching the cup with my still-bound hands. I tried to cheer myself up a bit with the pitiful knowledge that at least I could now raise the mug to my own mouth. They'd lengthened the chain enough to allow me that one little dignity. Having the bloody Slayer hold it for me was cruel and unusual punishment, and I'd half a mind to give Amnesty International a ring.
"Like anyone could sleep in this bloody bathtub anyway," I added after a few gulps of the too-warm blood. "I'm starting to think coffins might be more comfortable than this!"
The redhead shifted nervously, and that caught my full attention. Interesting. The little witch casts spells, kills vampires, battles demons, and makes the world generally safe for the blissfully unaware, but being social makes the chit tense. I could hardly keep the smile from forming on my face. Nervous humans give me a warm, fuzzy feeling...in a cold, demon-like way, of course. I wanted more.
"So, why'd you get stuck with the babysitting duties on a Friday night?" I asked oh-so-casually.
"Oh...well," Willow began. "Giles had a symposium he wanted to attend on modern voodoo practices, Xander and Anya went to LA to watch Rollerderby, of all things, and Buffy had...um...plans. She had plans." Plans to boff her latest boy toy, no doubt. Poor sod.
"Voodoo? Bet that'll keep him on pins and needles," I grumbled halfheartedly into the mug between slurps. To my surprise, the tiny room was suddenly filled by the sound of her laughter. It was an odd sound. Not because vampires don't like laughter. Hell, the funniest people I know are vampires. Angelus, for example, used to be able to make me laugh until I cried...actually, that was the point, I suppose. He always liked the tears. It's a shame he turned into such a bloody pillock. But, that's another sad bloody story...
Like I was saying, she laughed, and the soft, feminine sound echoed
off those damn spotless tiles, grating on my nerves like the handcuffs
grated at my skin.
Now, don't get me wrong. It's not that I wanted the chit to be miserable. She could laugh until she cried, or the other way 'round, and I wouldn't really care. But I don't want to be the one to make her happy. That's all I need--biteless, minionless, unliving on the kindness of the bloody Scooby Gang, and now I'm cheering up lovelorn witches. If vampires had a union, I'd be kicked out on my lily-white British bum.
I looked up at her, ready to fix her with my usual terrifying glare, but she was standing there...smiling down at me. I don't know if I terrified her or not, but the smile quickly disappeared the moment I made contact with those disgustingly easy-to-read green eyes. It wasn't as much fun as I thought it would be. It was over too soon.
"Just let me know if you need any more," Willow offered before turning to leave me alone with the plumbing.
"You didn't have any plans?" I blurted out. After all, if she left, I'd be alone, and there'd be no more of that delicious nervousness. Besides, talking to her was better than counting the tiles. (There are 412...six are cracked, in case you wondered.)
It worked. She turned around, obviously surprised by my interest. I'm sure she would have been surprised at anybody's interest at this point, seeing as her so-called friends are the most self-absorbed bunch of humans I've seen since The Beatles.
"Oh, um, no, not really. There was this Wicca meeting that would have been interesting, but it's no big. Besides, after what happened and everything..."
I shifted uncomfortably against the porcelain. I'd been in that tub for more than a day without even get a chance to stretch my legs...I wanted out. "Bloody hell, Pet. You still trying to make up for that spell of yours? You baked enough cookies to put that fat little dough-boy out of business."
Willow nodded emphatically. "I figured it's the least I could do...considering I made mortal enemies pick out china patterns and a librarian go blind...and everything..."
Could anyone really be this nice? It's amazing she was still alive, I realized. Such a trusting soul living on the Hellmouth was likely to attract all sorts of interesting attention. Like mine, perhaps.
"No," I instructed her impatiently, "the least you could have done was shrug and say, 'Weird shit happens on the Hellmouth, people. Deal with it!'"
I watched her, trying to see if what I said had any effect on the girl. I couldn't be sure, but I could tell I'd given her something to chew on.
Looking back at it now, I think that's the point where things really started to get all mucked up. I was torn. I wanted to be free. I wanted to hurt everything I encountered, and since I couldn't sink my teeth into that the way I used to, I had to fall back on words and games. It wasn't nearly as satisfying, but it did have its rewards. I also have to admit, much to my eternal shame, that I felt a little sorry for the chit.
Why are you so surprised? Drusilla, remember? Bloody bitch broke my heart. Turned me into a pathetic idiot. Not quite as pathetic as I am today, mind you, but pretty damn close. I don't care who the hell you are, being dumped sucks. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. Wait. Scratch that. I do wish it on the Slayer...every day, but that's different. She's a bitch.
"You mean, you aren't mad about...you know...kissing Buffy, telling Buffy how beautiful she was...and that you loved her? All those sweet nothings you whispered into her ear?" she asked me sweetly.
Sneaky little cow. She's twisting the stake while at the same time batting her long eyelashes at me. Bloody hell...did she have to bring that up? I gulped down the last of the pig blood, hoping to wash away the memory of the Slayer's taste, and tossed the cup back to her. Time to change the subject. Fast. Luckily, I had a plan. Poor thing wouldn't know what hit her.
"So, is that how it works in your little group? One little mistake and suddenly you're stuck standing in the loo, babysitting a neutered vamp while all your little pals are out having a jolly good time?"
That got to her, and for just a moment I saw a flash of resentment cross that angelic face. Crikey, it was gone fast, though. All to soon, she was looking down at me with those all-forgiving eyes. Gave me the willies how fast she could do that.
"Well, I have a lot of studying to do anyway. So I thought I could, you know, slay two demons with one really sharp pencil."
She made a joke... a fairly good one too, in my opinion. 'Course, I had little to judge it against lately. Still, it wouldn't be right for me to laugh. I wasn't that pathetic...yet.
"You're very good at avoiding answering questions, aren't you, witch? What's wrong, did I hit a nerve?"
She straightened herself up, her neck extending to quite an attractive length...all white and blood filled...
"I answered your question," she said quite firmly, interrupting my natural thought process. "Like I said, I don't mind watching you. You're usually pretty quiet. It's like study hall...but in a bathroom..."
I shrugged. I do that a lot...keeps the mystery alive. I shifted again, this time adding a few winces and a very subtle moan.
Too subtle, apparently.
"Oh, do you want me to turn the TV on for you? I mean, the tele?" she said with an expectant look, obviously pleased with her ability to throw in a bit of Brit-speak. She'd picked it up from ye ol' musty librarian, I suppose. Bloody hell...like he even counts as a proper Brit anymore. If she wants to learn some good slang, I should get her watch 'Black Adder' a few million times...or the 'Young Ones'.
Anyway, it was obvious that she was eager to please...like a puppy. And like a puppy, all she needed was a little leading in the right direction.
I shifted again, grimacing the whole time, making sure to rub my wrists quite roughly against the restraints.
"Bloody hell..." I mumbled, not too loud, not too soft. It worked.
"You, um, okay, Spike?"
"Like you care, witch! I can tell you're enjoying this...watching me bleed...my muscles all cramped and aching. I never though you had it in you...taking all your anger at your friends out on an..." I had to spit the next word out..."an...*impotent* vampire."
"Spike, you're bleeding," she yelped, finally noticing the trickle of blood from my wrists where the metal restraints were *accidentally* cutting into my skin.
"Save the act, Red. Just leave me to wallow in my own self-pity...and pain," I whimpered.
She froze, then turned away, and for a moment I thought I'd pushed my luck. I'd never had an acting class, I'm not that big of a wally, so it was far from an award-winning performance. I was just getting ready to come up with a new plan when I could practically hear applause explode in the background.
"I don't understand why you have to stay in the bathtub," she said softly as she sat on the side of the tub and dabbed at my injuries with a pure white face cloth. "It's not like you can hurt anybody."
"Don't rub it in, witch! We both know, even if I could escape, I don't have anywhere to go." I held my breath, metaphorically speaking, and hoped that she was as sickeningly nice as she seemed.
She was watching me, so I let my eyes drop forlornly down to the tub. I added just the slightest grimace, more of a flinch really, as cuffs once again cut into my wrists. I heard her sigh, and I was hard put not to smile at my success.
"Be right back," she said, quickly rising and walking out of the room. I could hear her rummaging about in the other rooms for a while before she came back in.
She was holding some sort of firearm and pointing it right at me. It caught me by surprise, so you can hardly blame me if I forgot my little act at that moment.
"What's that for?" I growled.
"Oh, it's a water gun...a Holy Water Gun, to be exact."
"And is it time for target practice?" I asked her with a slightly shaking voice. Damn chip!
"I'll let you out of the tub, but I'll have to tie to you to a chair in the living room. At least it will be more comfortable."
Damn. I was hoping that she'd let me go free range, but it was a start.
"You do anything funny, Spike, and I'll let you have it!" she continued, with only the slightest hint of malice to her voice. Dirty Harry she wasn't...Barb Wire, neither.
Still, that's when I noticed where the gun was pointed. Not at my heart, but at a more necessary organ quite a bit lower and less protected.
Squirming, trying to rotate my bits and pieces away from the dripping weapon, I quipped in by best John Wayne tone, "I promise I'll be on my best behavior, little lady."
"I should shoot you just for that, Spike," she groaned, rolling her eyes.
The little witch shifted the large automatic water rifle to one hand, then she bent over and slowly undid the chain that kept my hands and feet tethered to each other. Unfortunately, she left the ankle cuffs in place and my feet still chained to the damned faucet. Then she stared at me a bit, like I was a puzzle to be solved or something. Apparently, she was trying to figure out how to get my hands cuffed behind my back without me being able to strangle the life out of her. Not that I could because of the damned chip, but she didn't seem to want to take any chances. Can't blame her, really.
Well, to make a very long bloody story not nearly short enough, after
what I could only describe as the bondage version of the game Twister,
I eventually ended up with my hands cuffed behind my back and my feet chained
together with only just enough slack for me to walk. She wasn't as dumb
as she looked.
Hold on...forget I said that. She didn't look dumb in the slightest. Now, take Harmony for example, she didn't even have to open her mouth for you to realize how incredibly dim she was. I think it took all her brainpower just to walk and chew gum at the same time. Bloody hell. And Drusilla? Let's just say she was the beauty and I was the brains. Stupid cow. Hope the Chaos Demon gives her herpes.
But Red? There wasn't an unintelligent bone in her little Wicca body. Luckily, there were a few overly trusting ones...those were the ones I was hoping to bend enough to make my escape. I'd break them if I had to.
End Part One