"Buffy and the Beast" Chapter 7 - A BtVS Fanfic
Title: Buffy and the Beast'
Chapter: 7 - New Digs and Higher Stakes
Author: illyriaz_shell
Original Publish Date: Sometime in 2005
Rating: PG (so far)
Takes Place: Sort of AU Universe
Pairing: Spuffy
Story Summary: In an isolated English mountainside town, which also happens to be a hellmouth, American Teenage Slayer Buffy Summers and her Watcher Giles fight off vampires, demons and the forces of darkness. However, ignorant locals, Initiative presence in the form of Agent Riley Finn, and a curse on an even more isolated castle run by a vampire prince, lead to somewhat traditional fairytale antics. And untraditional romance.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, not mine, so don't sue.
A/N: I wrote this so so so very long ago, so it is a bit immature in it's writing. My writing of this fic has also been indefinitely suspended. Its not that I didn't know where I was taking this story. It's just when I was writing it, I got busy with other things, and by the time I had the time to write it, the flow was gone. However, positive
comments may put me back in that flow. ;)
Chapter Summary: Much to her delight, Buffy's accomadations get a fabulous upgrade, but the battling monster and man within the Prince make it difficult for him to control his temper when she seems less than greatful towards him.
( Chapter 6)
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The Prince had decided that the first step to gaining the girl’s trust was not keeping her locked up in a dungeon for all eternity. It hadn’t been that he expected to keep her down there; in fact, he hadn’t really expected to be keeping her anywhere. Figured I’d have a nice long drink and that would be the end of it. Wasn’t expecting a house guest; didn’t bloody think that I’d have to put her up. Not like the castle didn’t have more elegant rooms than he could count. It was just, at the time, the dungeon seemed like the best idea. The prince only realized later, upstairs in his bedroom, that she would probably find the company of his former groupies just as welcoming as he did when it wasn't one of his more masochistic days. So he headed down to the dungeons to rectify this slight miscalculation in gentlemanly hospitality.
It was as the Prince approached the wooden door to the jail that he heard the banter that was shooting back and forth between the Slayer and Angelus.
“He’s still Spike, but you know how royalty is an’ all. Inbreeding and the like. Figure the daftness kicked in, even after he became one of us.”
Ponce! was the Prince’s first reaction to this comment. After all, he was royalty and his dignity and honor was being ridiculed. However, the hereditary impulse quickly subsided, and he questioned the perceptiveness that Angelus had always prided himself with. Poofter hasn’t put together that I have soul. Nine years and it hasn’t crossed his mind. And he thinks I’m off my rocker! How can’t he smell it? God knows I can. I’m drenched in it, this soul.
The Prince thought this every time he came to this place, wondering if this soul was some alcohol induced nightmare…that he hadn’t woken up from in nine years. Even if the trio couldn’t sense it, the Prince knew it was there. Although, Drusilla would ramble on about sparks and lights, but he concluded that even if she was seeing his soul for real, she wouldn’t recognize what it was when worn by a vampire.
But Drusilla was rambling on about something else, now.
“You’re missing your spike and you’re covered from head to heel in sad ashes.”
Shit! Surely Angelus wouldn’t miss that. Any vampire with the slightest remnant of a brain could piece together that statement combined with the girl’s scent could only mean one thing: a Slayer.
As the Prince listened on, sure enough, Angelus and Drusilla had picked up this little tidbit. He could sense their nostrils flaring; their appetites being satisfied only by rats for nearly a decade and now the most succulent dish was trapped between their cages. But they couldn’t get at her if they wanted, and the rattling and screaming indicated that they did; those bars were too strong, and no way they could reach through them and keep a slayer subdued for long. His noble save-the-damsel-in-distress mode was nearly deactivated, when the cunning, evil voice of his inner monster was able to temporarily out-shout the screams of the man.
You can still save her, get her to trust you, if she needs saving. It took the more soulful aspects of his mind to catch up. Wait, I need to…put her in danger? No. That’s not…
But it’ll only be for a minute. After all, you’re right here. She’s a slayer, and she can keep him at bay until you play the big strapping hero and save the day.
After this postulation, the Prince had really no control over himself as he blinked his eyes once, and he forced the steel bar separating the cages to come loose and bend. He squinted his eyes in horror as the girl’s screams increased tenfold, and the sound of shredding reverberated in his keen vampire ears.
“One…two…three…four…bugger!” whispered the Prince as he threw open the door, and in another blink of his eyes, the door to her cage whipped open.
As he looked in to the darkness, his unbeating heart broke in half for the thousandth time. The sight of the whimpering slayer struggling so violently against the clawings of his former mentor sickened him to the core, and he cursed himself for the millionth time for being such a monster. But as the smell of slayer blood hit his nostrils, he quickly snapped back into reality and called out to her.
The look of hesitation on her face was more than expected, it was damn near required in a situation such as this; but he still couldn’t help but feel the twinge of guilt as he watched her having to contemplate coming with him. His outstretched hand seemed to seal the deal, and he couldn’t help both smiling and hating himself intensely as he watched her stumble over to accept it. There’s no time for turning back now, Willy, he thought as he jerked her hand and led her whole tattered body out of the dungeon.
The Prince mentally closed the doors behind them, and dragged her a little bit further before their running slowed into a hasty jog. The Prince looked at the Slayer, who was flushed and panting, mentally calming herself down from that experience and trying to find her bearings in this brand new one. Her hair was a mess, and she had scrapes up and down her entire form, but that look of resolve on her face made him…unsure of himself. Maybe the moment had just gotten to his head, and maybe it was the unnecessary breaths he was taking in order to keep pace with hers that was throwing him for a loop.
That, or maybe it’s those unnecessary breaths that are letting me waft way too much slayer blood than I should. Need to get her cleaned up now, for both our sakes.
Dawn had crept up on the two men who had passed out on the porch of the Bronze Hammer. Bottles of ale lay scattered across the wooden surface, and while the teenager lay sprawled on the steps, the man sat with his elbows rested on his knees, contemplating the situation. He had woken up hours ago, and to his dislike, the rum in this town wasn’t as strong as his foreign affairs training had led him to believe. Right about now, he’d rather be nursing a nasty hangover than contemplating the possibility of losing his job.
Riley Finn….Special Agent Riley Finn, that is, couldn’t believe that he was being put in this position. He’d pulled himself out of that farm in Iowa, knowing that he was better; knowing that he was meant for something more. Military camp had started everything, and after all that he’d been through, he was now Special Agent Riley Finn, Head of Initiative Operations; Hellmouth Division. He was living his dream job, working for the United States government and bringing justice to the world by ridding it of the hostiles that plagued it.
And now, this valley girl had become the entirety of his mission, and he couldn’t comprehend exactly what he was supposed to do about it. Or her. Sure, as a fellow fighter, he’d admired her strength, flexibility, and resourcefulness. And sure, he’d definitely wanted to tap that ass; especially since she was so resistent to his advances. But nothing or no-one, not even this little “Slayer” as she called herself, was worth what he was being forced to risk; his job, his life. So he had been left with one option, the only option;
“That bitch is going to join the Initiative, no matter what.”
Memories of the previous night spent with the Xander, lazing around and watching this small town boy guzzle down his first few beers reminded Riley that he had mumbled that very phrase a countless number of times during his stupor.
Xander had just been pissed that Buffy hadn’t shown up for her patrol ‘date’ with him last night, and had apparently checked everywhere he could think of before he came back to find Riley at the pub, mad as hell that she’d blown him off again. The boy had an adorable crush on the girl, and Riley felt no obligation in refusing the minor a drink to drown the pain. Hell, if anyone else in this town could relate to Xander about this girl making his life miserable, it was the soldier sitting next to him.
“Ugh. You want me to get him a pillow or something?” asked a feminine voice at the door.
Cordelia was standing against the frame with one hand on her jutted hip and dishtowel rag in the other, which was pointing to the passed out teenager. When Riley looked over at her, her irritation faded slightly and she gave the soldier a little wink. He smiled back, and then nodded towards Xander.
“I think he’s good. He’s been showing faint signs of life, so I think he’ll be up and doing twenty any minute now,” he joked and Cordelia giggled just a little too excitedly to be completely real.
“What about you, soldier? You need a bed to rest in?” she looked him over, “You guys have been here all night. I wouldn’t want that strong body to be deprived of the comfort it deserves.” She winked again, and gestured into the pub.
Riley laughed. Subtlety was definitely not a virtue of these Sunnyhill women, who weren't nearly as chaste as he'd pictured, much to his delight. The other, blonder one, had come out several times during the course of the night to check up on him and offered similar suggestions, and strangely repeatedly insisted that she was the best masseuse in town. He declined, but about now he could go for a good rub down from either of these bar chippies. He had no commitment to Buffy, after all. She wouldn’t be dating him anytime soon, and it wasn’t like he cared. She was just a mission.
“Sure,” he retorted, and with that he made his way towards Cordelia. After all, it's dangerous to get emotionally involved with the mission. Time to think of Buffy less like a piece of ass and more like a target. Which, with Riley, was going to be difficult since he viewed women as pretty much the same thing.
And had he been paying more attention to the figures he had been watching in the distance moments ago, he would have noticed an unconscious man slipping off the horse he had just emerged out of the forest on.
Ok, so you’re out of the Dungeon of Death. This is a good thing. Less of a good thing is walking beside the Prince of Death. He just saved your life. Why?Well, what did they just say back there? Something about growing a conscience. Pfft. Like they have any moral compass. Why is he looking at me like I’m a ball of sunshine in the “I’m going to burn to cinders” kind of way?
Wait. That’s not revulsion. Is it? It’s like….
Temptation. The blood.
“What are you looking at, fangboy?” Buffy shot at the vampire keeping stride with her.
“Nothing!” his undead features flushed, or they would have if they could. Instead, he just looked pained and turned away from her. But he still walked beside her, determined.
“Good. Keep it that way,” Buffy retorted, and she began wiping the blood off her clothes with her shirt, and since her shirt was part of her clothing, the effort was proving quite ineffective.
“Hey!” the Prince’s pride began to get the better of him, “May I just point out that I did do a fair bit of rescuing back there?”
“Yah. A real champion of the people, what with the standing and making me fight my way out of their grasps. Oh, and might I point out, you’re the reason I was there to begin with! A few hours ago, ripping my throat out was at the top of your ‘To-Do’ list too, Spikey.”
Buffy could see a wave of emotions wash over the vampire’s face, and none of them were calm. He went to open his mouth, shut it, grunted, opened his mouth again, and finally stopped his speed walking long enough to brutalize a hollow suit of armor before returning to her side. Buffy, although slowing down to watch that very satisfying display take place, had not stopped, and having reached the front hall, she moved her tiny legs as quick as they could towards the front door.
A moment of silence passed between them, before he finally spoke up. What words escaped his mouth came as a bit of a shock to the Slayer.
“Please stay.”
Another half minute.
“Ha. Yah, okay. Here’s the thing. When keeping a prisoner captured, you should remember that they spend pretty much the whole time thinking of how to get out. Do you really thing I’m going to stay?”
“Yes,” he said assuredly.
“And what makes you think that?” Buffy asked.
“Because,” he sighed, “You can’t leave this castle unless I want you to. You can go ahead and try.” The cockiness returned to his voice and he seemed a little more in control than she had seen since he had locked her in the dungeon.
Buffy moved to remove the stake from her back pocket, and realizing it wasn’t there, her eyes went wide.
“It’s ok,” the Prince said, “it wouldn’t help your situation if you did dust me. I think it would just lock down this place forever. Maybe you should be trying harder to get on my good side.”
“Well, as it turns out, Spike, the good side of a vampire also happens to be the dark side of the force…or whatever. So don’t be too disappointed in me if I don’t jump to try and be a good house guest,” she moved towards the door and pulled the giant handle with all her might. Sure enough, even her Slayer strength was about as effective as throwing lint at a brick wall.
“That’s mighty prejudice of you, don’t you think?” Spike asked as she gave up on the door.
“What can I say? I’m intolerant of vampires. I’m an anti-vampite. Sue me,” she didn’t even look at him as she began to scale the wall to the left of her to reach the window 10 feet up.
“I’m…not like that….anymore,” he muttered.
Buffy began pounding on the window. “Save it, Spike…”she began.
“Stop calling me that! I’m not him anymore!” he growled warningly.
“Yah. I heard. You’re feeling all sorry for yourself and you don’t seem to care that I don’t. Care, that is. You killed people. Lots and lots of people. Violently, I heard. Period.”
“You’re wrong,” he said blankly.
“So excuse me, but you’re always going to Spike up until you’re dusting day. Learn to cope. You’re an evil, disgusting thing.” She added to make sure that he understood that she was not buying the whole redemptionist act. She’d seen his hunger when he tried to bite her earlier; there was definitely a monster needed slaying right below the surface, even if he was trying to deny it.
“You haven’t staked me yet,” said Spike blatantly.
This caught Buffy off guard. Why haven’t I staked him?
Because you don’t have a stake, dumbass.
Yah, her logical inner-her spoke up, but you haven’t really made a move to take him on these whole ten minutes. You’re not believing him and his sob story, are you?
“So what? Doesn’t mean I won’t.” she shrugged unconvincingly.
Frustration flushed his features again, but Spike maintained his cool demeanor.
“Look,” he stated while looking her in the eye, “Face it or don’t face it. I can’t really make up your mind for you, but you gotta realize you’re not getting out of here for a very long time.”
“You can’t keep me here forever.”
“We’ll see,” he said.
“You bet we’ll see,” She muttered.
“Will you just shut your bleeding gob for one minute! Eh?” Spike cut in. Buffy rolled her eyes, then made the universal lock-your-lips-and-throw-away-the-key motion. Spike continued. “Right now, you’re trapped here, and you’re not getting out. Now, ‘m offerin’ something a little bit better than a rat infested prison cell to stay in. You want it, or are you going to waste your time scaling the windows and pounding unbreakable glass sum more?”
Buffy considered this. She didn’t want to be shown up by this vampire, but she was begrudgingly admitting that he did have the upper hand here. She had a feeling that he wasn’t lying when he said that she’s pretty useless against this fortress. That glass window was only about an inch thick, and she had dented high security metal doors thicker than that. This whole place seemed to be controlled by his will, and right now at least, he didn’t seem to be willing to kill her.
What’s with that, anyway? Oh well, this place has some pretty fancy digs, and I don’t want to go back downstairs. Ugh, whatever.
She huffed and narrowed her eyes, “One day…I’m going to stake you so slowly.”
Spike seemed contented by this, and brushing his long silver locks back, he straightened. “Fine. Follow me.”
“Where are we going, might I ask?” asked Buffy as they both ascended the steps, although this time, it was the Prince who was walking too rapidly and Buffy had to keep up.
“Your new accommodations. I hope you enjoy them more than the last ones,” Spike said uncaringly.
“Won’t be too difficult,” Buffy said under her breath but clearly loud enough so the Prince could here her. If he did, he took no notice and kept at his pacing.
“You know,” Buffy added after they had turned a few corners, “As a warden you really suck.”
“Eh?” asked Spike as he turned his ear to listen. “How’s that, then?”
“You suck. Well, clearly you suck, being a vamp….What I mean is, you are so not in control. It’s totally obvious,” Buffy chatted offhandedly. “One minute you’re all ‘you’re not leaving cause I said so’ and the next you’re like ‘I’m sad and I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.’”
“You haven’t been able to leave yet, ‘ave you?” he shot at her.
“Oh, you’ve got the whole magical willpower over the castle thing, which is cool and powerful and it seems that it’s kicked my ass in the escaping department. I’m just saying, if a serial killer strategy of keeping me here out of intimidation is what you’re going for…Like, you’re clearly nuts,” Buffy watched his pace slow down, “but not the kinda crazy that’s got me shaking in my stylish-yet-affordable boots. I’m so gonna get the upper-hand one of these…”
“Well, maybe,” he cut her off and they both stopped walking, “I’m just trying to throw you off. You never know how I could surprise you.”
He turned around, eyes flashing and caught her gaze for an instant before he looked to his right. Her eyes remained focused on his face, but she too followed his gaze, and to her left, she saw an elaborately carved wooden door open of its own volition.
The bright light blinded her a bit as it flowed into the palely lit corridor, but as Buffy’s eyes quickly adjusted, she saw it wasn’t just the eloquent lighting that was blinding her. The room, decorated in light beige and purple, was nearly the size of a small gymnasium, but infinitely more elegant. A crystal chandelier dangled from the ceiling, which was decorated in the most amazing mural of cherubs and angels she had ever seen. The walls were covered in paintings encased in exquisite frames from different eras, and the harmony of the hardwood floor was only broken by the giant antique purple rug in the centre. The two bay windows were shrouded in dark purple and beige curtains, and in the corner, another purple curtain surrounded something unseen. But the most impressive piece of furniture, beside the large oak cabinet that was definitely meant for holding her clothes, was the humongous bed draped in a canopy. Like, a really incredibly huge bed; it had to be the size of her cell downstairs.
What was more, there was whole bunch of couches placed around a fireplace.
“Oh. My. God.” Buffy gawked at the room for a moment. She looked at Spike, then motioned to the room, mouthing the word ‘me?’
When he closed his eyes and nodded, suppressing a smile, she bounded into the room. Buffy first sat on the couches in front of the fireplace, feeling up the silk pillows, and warming her hands by the fire. Then she darted towards the windows, taking a peek outside to look at the castle grounds. Wow. This is really, really high up. You can see everything from here!
Buffy then ran towards the curtain in the corner, curious at what lay behind it. Ripping it back and almost ripping it to shreds, she nearly had a heart attack when a marble sink, toilet and shower were revealed.
“Plumbing!” she shouted in delight and disbelief. He nodded, and Buffy protested, “But, what happened to Medieval Times? I thought this was the middle of nowhere and everyone here was super Amish-y.”
Spike didn’t seem to be catching half of her phrasing, but caught the general gist nonetheless. “You think that the royal family’s going to settle with using slop buckets and fires to heat up the ice cold water? Hell no! My dad talked to some authorities from the more modern world and got it installed it right before I was born. Most of the upper castle has it, anyway.”
”I see,” Buffy was already washing her hands, face and cut-up arms in the sink. “Can I say that these soaps: awesome! Really expensive stuff. Yours?”
”My aunts, actually. On me mum’s side. She only lived in it when she was younger though, when my dad and mum were just married, so it’s well suited for a…a…”
”Little girl?” implied Buffy while she dried herslef with the beige towel, suddenly red from the blood she'd washed off.
“A princess.” He finished.
Buffy laughed a little sarcastically at that. “Well, I’m not much of a princess, but thanks anyway. I haven’t seen a decent looking place like this in months,” she groaned as she hit that last word, “so much appreciated.”
Spike smiled at the praise, and his confidence returned. He did not know why making her happy seemed to affect him the same way.
”Excellent, so if you just look in that closet over there, there are dozens of excellent dinner gowns. We’ll have supper in about an hour…”
”Check the time? It’s morning. It may be dinner for you, but we humans have breakfast about now.”
”Well, fine then,” his confidence wavered slightly, “You can have the day to rest up, and then at dinner time…”
”Oh, oh no. That’s not happening.” Buffy said matter-of-a-factly while she began bouncing on the bed after she had pulled away the canopy. Weee! Bouncing is fun!
“What? I-I don’t…” Spike seemed floored at her refusal.
“You think you can buy me off with shiny clothes and a nice room? Thanks, but you’ve forgotten that I’m”- bounce -“a” -bounce- “prisoner.” She stopped bouncing and sat on the edge of the bed, daring him to challenge her.
“I’m fully aware of the fact you’re a prisoner. My prisoner, or have you forgotten?” his voice was peppered with anger.
“Nope, fully aware of that too, Spikey. But, like I said, I’m not going to be seduced by you just because you gave me this room. It’s very pretty, but it’s still a prison cell.”
His anger showed on his face, and for the first time, colour finally flooded his cheeks. He didn’t even know why it was so important for her to eat with him; he just knew that he wanted her to and therefore she had to.
“You are bloody coming to dinner tonight,” he threatened.
”No,” she countered and stared him strongly in the eyes, “I’m bloody not.”
”You are!” he shouted.
”Nope,” she squeaked.
He was close to ripping his own hair out with the grasp he had on his platinum locks, and after spinning around in the corridor, growling and shifting from human to vampire face and back to human, he stopped and walked towards her, cloak billowing and finger pointing.
”You…listen….I…this…” he couldn’t form a coherent sentence, and though he was towering over her seated form, she made no move to back off. He finally dropped his hand, turned around, and stormed out.
As the door behind him closed, he belted out “You will be joining me for dinner,” and then his figure disappeared behind the wood.
”Whatever. Not.” She lay back on her bed, massaging her skin with the silk comforter. She didn’t even try and break down the door. Not only did she know she wouldn’t be able to, she wasn’t really keen on leaving her new room. This had to be better than any hotel room in the world, minus a television, and she wasn’t about to leave.
After about half an hour of just resting, (after all, she hadn’t slept all night), she was sure that he had finally vacated his post on the other side of the door. She climbed underneath the comforter, but she still all sticky from the cuts she hadn't cleaned and decided she had much more vigourous washing up to do. She climbed out, and went over to the antique closet. Sure enough, there were tones of dresses and gowns, along with corsets, lots of underclothes and pajamas, and finally, towels.
As she slipped out of her clothing and strode towards the tiny curtain covered bathroom in the back corner, she mumbled to herself in a sarcastic tone, “I want to have a shower now. Is that all right with you, you’re royal high-pain-in-the-ass?”
And all thoughts that the Prince was gone were dismissed as the shower head suddenly sprung to life and water poured out from the nozzle.
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( Chapter 6)
So, yeah, for now, that's all there is. Though reposting and editing as I go has filled me with a bit of desire to continue on with the story, since I know where it's going. I just have to write it. Maybe a few comments will get the creative process flowing [/comment whoring]