Enemy's Heartstrings

By AGriffinWriter

Season 2 AU: After losing his soul in the night of passion with Buffy, Angelus brutally tortures wheelchair-bound Spike, who sees no alternative but to seek sanctuary with the Slayer and her pals. Coddling the heart-broken Big Bad isn't something that ever crossed Buffy's radar, but despite her resistance, feelings start to develop. M for graphic torture, violence, vampire smut, mild language.

All direct quotes from Buffy the Vampire Slayer belong to their respective owners. For this fic, scenes and dialogue from season two are incorporated. However, this story is all mine.

Author's notes: Lyrics from "Stupid Thing" by Nickel, sung at the Bronze during "School Hard".


Prologue: One Step Away

/ I… did a stupid thing last night
I called you. A moment of weakness
No, not a moment
More like three months of weakness
I'm one step away… from crashing to my knees
One step away… from spilling my guts to you /

The Slayer.

Fire licks through his veins at the first sight of her. Just a girl… a fleck of pink paint on her cheek, a French textbook abandoned on the table she and her friends just vacated… and yet she dances like a woman, seductive, enticing… enough to make his mouth dry out and his unneeded breath hitch in his throat.

/ I'm one step away… from crashing to my knees
One step away… from spilling my guts to you /

Spike swallows hard, intoxicated, thrown off his game by this Slayer… and though he'd vowed to himself that he'd keep his distance, he has to see her in action. He prowls around the exterior of the dance floor until he's beside the brutish oaf acting as his reluctant accomplice for the evening.

"Go get something to eat."

/ I… did a stupid thing last night
I called you. I'm doing alright.
No, don't feel sorry for me.
Really, I'm alright.
I'm one step away… from crashing to my knees
One step away… from spilling my guts to you /

Closer… closer… five more steps and he could touch her himself. And his jeans tighten at the thought, of skulking just those last few feet, crossing between the Slayer and her two companions, the muddy-haired boy and redheaded girl… of steering her off by himself, his hands on her warm, gyrating waist… her back to his chest and his lips at her throat.

/ One step away… from crashing to my knees
One step away… from spilling my guts to you /

"Where's the phone?" he says loudly, so near to the Slayer that he can imagine his breath ghosting across the back of her neck with every word. "I need to call the police. There's some big guy out there trying to bite someone."

She turns, blonde hair swishing around her little heart shaped face, then races for the alley outside the excuse for a pub. Spike rushes to another exit, desperate to watch.

"Slayer!" growls the ugly sidekick vamp, his hands on the throat of some terrified female bystander.

"Slay-ee," the Slayer retorts, confidence in her stance.

And then she keeps dancing, every punch and block and swerve elegant in their own way. Spike can't take his eyes off the girl, holding her own against the creature twice her size.

"I don't need to wait for Saint Vigeous," the giant vampire snarls, gaining the upper hand for only a moment, the Slayer on the pavement at his feet. "You're mine."

But then she's dancing again, upright in a moment, a stake tossed to her from one of her friends.

"Spike, gimme a hand!"

The girl's head twirls at the brute's words, and Spike can almost see his own name embedded in her mind, a thought that makes him even more eager.

One second later, with a stab of her stake, his companion is a flurry of dust on the alley concrete.

Run, mate… run now… don't show yourself… oh, bollocks…

He doesn't even pretend to listen to the voice of warning inside his skull. Stepping out from the shadows, he applauds slowly, his electric blue eyes never leaving the spitfire blonde.

"Nice work, luv."

"Who are you?" asks the Slayer, wary, perhaps a little confused.

Spike can't help but tease. "You'll find out on Saturday."

Her eyes laugh at him. "What happens on Saturday?"

"I kill you."

He smiles, slinking back into the concealing darkness before she has time to do anything but blink curiously at him. And then, as he races through the dark alleys, his brain seems to switch back on. He reflects as he pelts through the nearly empty streets that it is so… so wrong that a little girl should make him ache with so much longing. Little girls were Angelus's thing. His grandsire liked them young and chaste – so he could destroy them – or experienced and slutty – so they could teach him devilish new tricks.

But Spike doesn't have a 'thing', a 'type'. He has the one. Drusilla, his princess. He is her slave, sex toy, provider, interpreter… she owns him, body and heart, forever.

And yet… sometimes… in those rare moments when she's deeply asleep, and her claim on him is weakest, he ponders how very unfair it all is – that a century ago she set her sire's mark on him like a minion, not a true lover. An unforgiving reminder that she is bound eternally and wholeheartedly to Angelus, no matter how many years have passed since they last saw him.

Still, he is Dru's. He loves her, worships her with his blood and his body.

So why does the Slayer make him all kinds of hungry?

/ One step away… from crashing to my knees
One step away from spilling my guts to you
One step away… from crashing to my knees
One step away from spilling my guts to you /

To be continued...


Author's notes: Yeah, I know I should be working on "Five Words"… but I so wanted to give this to you, gentle readers. ;) Please review and let me know if this story idea intrigues you.