Fic: Persephone - Chapter 2
Rating: Vampire slayage, some language, explicit sex later chapters
Timeline: Season 2
A/N: Thanks to the incomparable beanbeans for much appreciated encouragement and betaing! All remaining errors are mine.
This is a crack!fic whence the whole point is for virginal season 2 Buffy to get it on with ebol, unchipped season 2 Spike. Onward to that special hell.
Persephone - Chapter 2
“Thanks again for helping me out with this, Will.” Buffy gave her a grateful look as they trudged through the cemetery.
“No problem. What are friends for?”
“I mean, having to hear about it from Giles was bad enough.” God, she’d been an incredible bitch to him, too. He’d probably forgiven her before the door closed on her drama queen exit, but sometimes forgiveness just made it worse. “If he was involved, I just-and Xander, also a big no.”
“Well, we should be safe there. You’re sure Giles said it was next Friday?”
“I remember thinking the pep rally sounded like the fun alternative.”
Willow’s worried frown relaxed into a smile, but only for a moment. “I did the calculations over and over, and I always get tomorrow night. I hope I didn’t do something wrong.” For a little while, there was only the scuff of their feet in the wet grass. “Buffy, are you sure we can do this? I mean, I’ve been practicing less than a year.”
Buffy felt her stomach drop a little, but she made herself smile and sound reassuring, “I know you can, Will. Giles is smart, but you saw him try to do his own taxes. When it comes to calculations, you have my full confidence.”
“What about you?”
“Me? Math’s never-” Buffy looked over and saw that Willow had exchanged her worried frown for her concerned frown, complete with dimply chin.
“Oh.” She pulled in a deep breath. “I’ll be alright. So, did you learn anything new?”
“Nope, everything I read is pretty much like Giles said. You know, except for the date thing. It-it can’t be Angel, Buffy, not and fulfill the prophecy. It’s very specific.”
“I know,” she said flatly. It’s not like she had any hopes on that score, so why did it hurt so much to hear it? “If it can’t be him, I’d rather he never finds out, OK?”
Willow stopped in front of the crypt. “Buffy-”
Buffy grabbed the handle and yanked open the door with more vigor than she might have otherwise. “Relax, Willow,” she said, stepping into the darkness, “it’s only the end of the world.”
***
Spike stopped pacing when he heard the voices.
He wasn’t surprised to hear the Slayer and her little gal pal, what with his last memory being a line of sight right up the Slayer’s skirt--if you wanted to call that a skirt. Not such a bad way to go really, except that the little birdies flitting around his head had sort of ruined his view.
He settled back against the wall and made a pretense of examining his nail polish when the door opened, letting in a shaft of moonlight cut by leggy shadows. He watched the girls file in.
A rattle of chains betrayed his restless movement when he spied a stake in the Slayer’s hand. He’d always thought he’d go out fighting, not put down like a dog. And his beloved was still only a shade of her former self, every night, just a little deeper into her madness. With him out of the picture, Dru would probably go drifting around town some night, admonishing her non-existent reflection in the shop windows. The Slayer would come upon her, and the Slayer would--he shoved the thoughts away, and the panic that tried to follow after. He’d bluffed his way out of worse.
“Oh my god, Buffy, is that Spike?”
The cause of his torment shrugged. “He was convenient.” He snarled inwardly as the Slayer strolled right up to the limit of his bonds, bold as brass. His anger redoubled while she stood there, arms crossed, looking him over. She didn’t look impressed, the little bitch. Like she had any room to judge; Slayers usually had some panache, but this one had all the deadly cool of a Kewpie doll.
“You know, Slayer,” he said, “you really ought to unchain me.”
He shouldered himself off the wall and strolled toward her until his chains pulled tight. His face inches from hers, he raised his arms, crossing his wrists over his head and went on softly. “See, it’s just going to look really bad for you when I take you out with my hands chained behind my back.”
Her face was as smooth-cheeked and bland as one of his beloved’s dolls. Big, heavily-lashed eyes met his, unblinking. He was so close that his senses were full of her. All that sick sweetness, he shuddered.
“Shut up, Spike. We’re not here to fight with you.”
Well, that just left staking, torture and dismemberment.
“Brought me some supper then?” He directed a wide, hungry smile at the Girl Wonder, who was positioning a camp lantern on top of the sarcophagus like it was some sort of centerpiece. She just stared at him like he’d been noisy in church. He sighed inwardly, and looked back at the Slayer.
“I’ll bite-what are you going to do with me?”
The simple question accomplished what all his bravado hadn’t. Gal pal was suddenly very interested in her Mary Janes, and--blushing? The Slayer still looked bored and indifferent, but she wasn’t meeting his eyes anymore. Instead she was looking at one of the crypt’s tiny opaque windows like there was something to see. Neither one seemed in a lather to answer his question.
He kicked hard against one of his chains. “Come on now people, I haven’t got all night.”
After what seemed like an unbearably long wait, the sidekick drew some sort of invisible short straw and spoke, “It’s the Rite of Persephone. Have you heard of it?”
He lowered his arms. Shit, they wanted him for some sort of ritual. Odds on, the Queen of the Dead wanted more than a lock of hair.
“I’ve heard of her.”
The sidekick perked up a little. “You know, it's interesting, she was actually the Goddess of Spring until--” She glanced at the Slayer who was now drawing patterns in the dirt with her toe. She took a deep breath and started again. “Every thousand years the Slayer is supposed to do this ritual in order to preserve the balance. It’s not really all that hard. I mean, the magic part isn’t, you know, hard. It’s just a sacred circle and a short incantation. I can get most of the stuff I need from the grocery store.”
Spike’s fingers twitched, longing to wrap around her scrawny little neck. “Get to the point.”
She wilted at his impatient tone and looked to the Slayer, who was now frowning at her nails. He wanted to move, needed to, but the slightest movement set his chains jingling and jeering.
With a deep breath, the girl faced him again and seemed to steel herself. “The prophecy says that the Slayer has to give up her innocence on a dark altar, sort of a, uh, sacred marriage kind of thing.” He waited for her to say more, and waited, but she just looked at him with big, solemn eyes.
Spike snapped.
Vamping out, he lunged against his bonds. The furious clash of chains and his full-throated snarls ricocheted off the stone walls and seemed to come from everywhere at once. The girl cried out and cowered back.
“And I’m to what,” he yelled, “Catch her fucking bouquet, sodding videotape--Ow! Bloody hell!”
He staggered back, clutching his nose and glaring at the Slayer who was now standing between him and her friend, fists at ready.
“Sex. We have to have sex, Spike. My god, you’re an idiot.”
***
Buffy watched him straighten, lowering his hands from a face that looked wary but calm. His tantrum might never have happened except for the sound of Willow’s heightened breathing and the thin line of blood from his nose. The blood looked too dark in the dim, yellow light, and when it reached his lip, a tongue that looked too pale curled up to taste it.
Talking to him was turning out to be worse than carrying him. If she wasn’t looking at him she felt edgy, and if she was looking at him, she couldn’t help thinking about the ritual. She was trained to keep her attention on the face, the best place to see what a vamp was going to do next, which moves were fake-outs and that kind of thing. Normally, that was not a problem, but tonight her eyes kept… wandering. Wandering around on Spike, and worse, getting stuck.
She would catch herself looking at his hands and thinking there’d better not be any touching; looking at his mouth and wondering if he would try to bite her, and that big, shiny belt buckle… right now she hated it almost as much as she did him. At least she’d managed to pull up before she went any lower.
He took another swipe at the blood with his tongue, the sort of gesture she would normally register without really looking. Not looking now either, she thought. She saw him glance to one side and then the other-what, did he think there was a hidden camera crew?-before fixing his yellow gaze on her again. “Sex,” he repeated. “You and me.”
He seemed focused on her in a way that he hadn’t been before; Buffy settled her balance more carefully on the balls of her feet and nodded.
A wide, mirthless smile spread across his face, briefly displaying a full complement of pointy teeth. He shook his head. “So, the Powers want a little tent show do they?” He pressed a hand to his chest. “And what can I expect for my performance, a staking for a staking maybe?”
The image made her feel a little sick. “I promise, if you fulfill your side of things, we’ll let you go.”
“Is that so?”
Spike stepped forward as his demonic face smoothed away, all traces of amusement gone with it. “I think I’ll be taking my payment in advance,” he said, his voice hard. “Unchain me.”
“You’re not in charge here, Spike.”
Spike snorted. “And you are?”
The truth hurt. “You’ll do what I say, or I’ll just find a vamp who will.”
For a few moments the threat actually seemed to work; he was quiet anyway. But then he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You wouldn’t have got me to begin with if you weren’t desperate. Not for this.”
Buffy smiled. “Dusty it is!” She lunged forward. This was much better; this felt right.
He managed to evade her first effort and even get in a blow of his own. Buffy fell back out his reach, but it was only a matter of time and she could see that he knew it.
“Aw, Spike, this fight is just so unfair. I’d unchain you and let my mom take you down, but she didn’t want to do it again.”
Spike growled. “Might want to shop for an innocent Slayer to go with that vamp with no knackers.” His lip curled. “I’ve seen Key West hookers showing less leg.”
She lunged forward.
They exchanged a flurry of blows, but in the end Buffy got him by the throat and yanked him to the end of the chains; they pulled his arms up and back offering his chest to her.
Buffy raised her stake.
“Buffy, stop! Spike’s right.”
Buffy faltered and looked back at her friend in disbelief. Under her hand, she felt Spike swallow and then the unmistakable vibrations of laughter.
“I mean, about the kinda late to be picky part, not the…” Buffy saw Willow’s wide-eyed gaze flicker to her bare legs, right before she pasted on a shaky ‘please don’t hurt me’ smile.
Buffy turned back to Spike with a look that promised retribution, and released him with a shove. She could hear his laughter over the clash of chains as he fetched up against the wall.
“I’ll do the deed for you Slayer--” he said, arching himself off the wall in a lazy motion. Buffy absolutely did not watch one of his hands drift idly in the direction of his belt buckle; not-watching was easier now that she was really good and pissed.
“--if you let me out of these chains. You’re going to have to sooner or later anyway.”
“No, the ritual’s not until sundown tomorrow, and there’s no way I can trust you to come back.”
“Think of it as a gesture of good faith.” His knowing smile made her seethe. “Besides, if I don’t show, I’m guessing the World Cup’s going to be Rats vs. Cockroaches for the foreseeable. Isn’t that right, Tonto?”
“If you fail, or she kills you, the climate control kind of gets stuck on summer,” Willow said reluctantly.
“Sand vs. Cockroaches then. Sounds… dry. I’m not trading the comforts of civilization for short nights and a rodent buffet if I can help it. What’s more, if you wait to cut me loose I might not be real useful.”
He leaned forward, his blue eyes earnest. “Vamps go spare if they're chained up long, start chewing off limbs, that sort of thing. I can already feel it starting.”
Buffy made a disgusted sound. “They so do not!”
Spike’s expression soured. “How would you know? Keep Angel chained up all night do you? He’s the type.” His voice dripped scorn.
“He so is n--” She closed her eyes for a moment, and then tipped her head back, shaking her hair off her shoulders. “The prophecy doesn’t say anything about him needing to have limbs, does it Willow?”
“I-uh.”
“Might be worth losing an appendage or two just to avoid waking up to you.” he muttered.
Buffy’s eyes widened. “I know there's nothing about you needing to have a tongue.”
He wagged it at her.
She was in motion before she could think better of it.
***
Buffy gasped soundlessly. The chain bit into her bare arm where it was caught between them, but that didn’t hurt nearly as much as the teeth in her throat. Between one blow and the next, he’d pulled her to him hard enough to knock the wind out of her, grappled her, and sunk his fangs in.
Buffy tensed as the full realization hit, and he responded by working the points just a little deeper; she felt his warning growl against her belly. The vibrations made her dizzy, or maybe that was the arm, tight around her ribcage. She tried to think. If she pulled away, she’d cut her own throat; if she attacked he’d just close his jaws. So she floated there, waiting to see what would happen next, shocked at how little she cared now that the moment was actually here.
There was a sharp, tugging pain and gravity returned; she felt herself stumbling, falling. She caught her balance, and cried out when something barreled into her from behind-Willow. The camp lantern swung wildly, adding to her disorientation. Buffy staggered back a few steps, pushing her friend behind her. She pulled deep breaths into her starved lungs, her emotions see-sawing between anger and disbelief as she stared at the vampire in front of her.
“I said I’ll do it and I will, but not like this.” His voice was rough, fierce, certain. “Unchain me, or the next time I get a hold of you, I’ll have myself a last meal and let it all burn.”
Buffy shook her head, but finally, she did what had to be done, just like she always did. She stalked forward and snagged one of his manacles, yanking it open with both hands.
Chapter 3
Timeline: Season 2
A/N: Thanks to the incomparable beanbeans for much appreciated encouragement and betaing! All remaining errors are mine.
This is a crack!fic whence the whole point is for virginal season 2 Buffy to get it on with ebol, unchipped season 2 Spike. Onward to that special hell.
Persephone - Chapter 2
“Thanks again for helping me out with this, Will.” Buffy gave her a grateful look as they trudged through the cemetery.
“No problem. What are friends for?”
“I mean, having to hear about it from Giles was bad enough.” God, she’d been an incredible bitch to him, too. He’d probably forgiven her before the door closed on her drama queen exit, but sometimes forgiveness just made it worse. “If he was involved, I just-and Xander, also a big no.”
“Well, we should be safe there. You’re sure Giles said it was next Friday?”
“I remember thinking the pep rally sounded like the fun alternative.”
Willow’s worried frown relaxed into a smile, but only for a moment. “I did the calculations over and over, and I always get tomorrow night. I hope I didn’t do something wrong.” For a little while, there was only the scuff of their feet in the wet grass. “Buffy, are you sure we can do this? I mean, I’ve been practicing less than a year.”
Buffy felt her stomach drop a little, but she made herself smile and sound reassuring, “I know you can, Will. Giles is smart, but you saw him try to do his own taxes. When it comes to calculations, you have my full confidence.”
“What about you?”
“Me? Math’s never-” Buffy looked over and saw that Willow had exchanged her worried frown for her concerned frown, complete with dimply chin.
“Oh.” She pulled in a deep breath. “I’ll be alright. So, did you learn anything new?”
“Nope, everything I read is pretty much like Giles said. You know, except for the date thing. It-it can’t be Angel, Buffy, not and fulfill the prophecy. It’s very specific.”
“I know,” she said flatly. It’s not like she had any hopes on that score, so why did it hurt so much to hear it? “If it can’t be him, I’d rather he never finds out, OK?”
Willow stopped in front of the crypt. “Buffy-”
Buffy grabbed the handle and yanked open the door with more vigor than she might have otherwise. “Relax, Willow,” she said, stepping into the darkness, “it’s only the end of the world.”
***
Spike stopped pacing when he heard the voices.
He wasn’t surprised to hear the Slayer and her little gal pal, what with his last memory being a line of sight right up the Slayer’s skirt--if you wanted to call that a skirt. Not such a bad way to go really, except that the little birdies flitting around his head had sort of ruined his view.
He settled back against the wall and made a pretense of examining his nail polish when the door opened, letting in a shaft of moonlight cut by leggy shadows. He watched the girls file in.
A rattle of chains betrayed his restless movement when he spied a stake in the Slayer’s hand. He’d always thought he’d go out fighting, not put down like a dog. And his beloved was still only a shade of her former self, every night, just a little deeper into her madness. With him out of the picture, Dru would probably go drifting around town some night, admonishing her non-existent reflection in the shop windows. The Slayer would come upon her, and the Slayer would--he shoved the thoughts away, and the panic that tried to follow after. He’d bluffed his way out of worse.
“Oh my god, Buffy, is that Spike?”
The cause of his torment shrugged. “He was convenient.” He snarled inwardly as the Slayer strolled right up to the limit of his bonds, bold as brass. His anger redoubled while she stood there, arms crossed, looking him over. She didn’t look impressed, the little bitch. Like she had any room to judge; Slayers usually had some panache, but this one had all the deadly cool of a Kewpie doll.
“You know, Slayer,” he said, “you really ought to unchain me.”
He shouldered himself off the wall and strolled toward her until his chains pulled tight. His face inches from hers, he raised his arms, crossing his wrists over his head and went on softly. “See, it’s just going to look really bad for you when I take you out with my hands chained behind my back.”
Her face was as smooth-cheeked and bland as one of his beloved’s dolls. Big, heavily-lashed eyes met his, unblinking. He was so close that his senses were full of her. All that sick sweetness, he shuddered.
“Shut up, Spike. We’re not here to fight with you.”
Well, that just left staking, torture and dismemberment.
“Brought me some supper then?” He directed a wide, hungry smile at the Girl Wonder, who was positioning a camp lantern on top of the sarcophagus like it was some sort of centerpiece. She just stared at him like he’d been noisy in church. He sighed inwardly, and looked back at the Slayer.
“I’ll bite-what are you going to do with me?”
The simple question accomplished what all his bravado hadn’t. Gal pal was suddenly very interested in her Mary Janes, and--blushing? The Slayer still looked bored and indifferent, but she wasn’t meeting his eyes anymore. Instead she was looking at one of the crypt’s tiny opaque windows like there was something to see. Neither one seemed in a lather to answer his question.
He kicked hard against one of his chains. “Come on now people, I haven’t got all night.”
After what seemed like an unbearably long wait, the sidekick drew some sort of invisible short straw and spoke, “It’s the Rite of Persephone. Have you heard of it?”
He lowered his arms. Shit, they wanted him for some sort of ritual. Odds on, the Queen of the Dead wanted more than a lock of hair.
“I’ve heard of her.”
The sidekick perked up a little. “You know, it's interesting, she was actually the Goddess of Spring until--” She glanced at the Slayer who was now drawing patterns in the dirt with her toe. She took a deep breath and started again. “Every thousand years the Slayer is supposed to do this ritual in order to preserve the balance. It’s not really all that hard. I mean, the magic part isn’t, you know, hard. It’s just a sacred circle and a short incantation. I can get most of the stuff I need from the grocery store.”
Spike’s fingers twitched, longing to wrap around her scrawny little neck. “Get to the point.”
She wilted at his impatient tone and looked to the Slayer, who was now frowning at her nails. He wanted to move, needed to, but the slightest movement set his chains jingling and jeering.
With a deep breath, the girl faced him again and seemed to steel herself. “The prophecy says that the Slayer has to give up her innocence on a dark altar, sort of a, uh, sacred marriage kind of thing.” He waited for her to say more, and waited, but she just looked at him with big, solemn eyes.
Spike snapped.
Vamping out, he lunged against his bonds. The furious clash of chains and his full-throated snarls ricocheted off the stone walls and seemed to come from everywhere at once. The girl cried out and cowered back.
“And I’m to what,” he yelled, “Catch her fucking bouquet, sodding videotape--Ow! Bloody hell!”
He staggered back, clutching his nose and glaring at the Slayer who was now standing between him and her friend, fists at ready.
“Sex. We have to have sex, Spike. My god, you’re an idiot.”
***
Buffy watched him straighten, lowering his hands from a face that looked wary but calm. His tantrum might never have happened except for the sound of Willow’s heightened breathing and the thin line of blood from his nose. The blood looked too dark in the dim, yellow light, and when it reached his lip, a tongue that looked too pale curled up to taste it.
Talking to him was turning out to be worse than carrying him. If she wasn’t looking at him she felt edgy, and if she was looking at him, she couldn’t help thinking about the ritual. She was trained to keep her attention on the face, the best place to see what a vamp was going to do next, which moves were fake-outs and that kind of thing. Normally, that was not a problem, but tonight her eyes kept… wandering. Wandering around on Spike, and worse, getting stuck.
She would catch herself looking at his hands and thinking there’d better not be any touching; looking at his mouth and wondering if he would try to bite her, and that big, shiny belt buckle… right now she hated it almost as much as she did him. At least she’d managed to pull up before she went any lower.
He took another swipe at the blood with his tongue, the sort of gesture she would normally register without really looking. Not looking now either, she thought. She saw him glance to one side and then the other-what, did he think there was a hidden camera crew?-before fixing his yellow gaze on her again. “Sex,” he repeated. “You and me.”
He seemed focused on her in a way that he hadn’t been before; Buffy settled her balance more carefully on the balls of her feet and nodded.
A wide, mirthless smile spread across his face, briefly displaying a full complement of pointy teeth. He shook his head. “So, the Powers want a little tent show do they?” He pressed a hand to his chest. “And what can I expect for my performance, a staking for a staking maybe?”
The image made her feel a little sick. “I promise, if you fulfill your side of things, we’ll let you go.”
“Is that so?”
Spike stepped forward as his demonic face smoothed away, all traces of amusement gone with it. “I think I’ll be taking my payment in advance,” he said, his voice hard. “Unchain me.”
“You’re not in charge here, Spike.”
Spike snorted. “And you are?”
The truth hurt. “You’ll do what I say, or I’ll just find a vamp who will.”
For a few moments the threat actually seemed to work; he was quiet anyway. But then he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You wouldn’t have got me to begin with if you weren’t desperate. Not for this.”
Buffy smiled. “Dusty it is!” She lunged forward. This was much better; this felt right.
He managed to evade her first effort and even get in a blow of his own. Buffy fell back out his reach, but it was only a matter of time and she could see that he knew it.
“Aw, Spike, this fight is just so unfair. I’d unchain you and let my mom take you down, but she didn’t want to do it again.”
Spike growled. “Might want to shop for an innocent Slayer to go with that vamp with no knackers.” His lip curled. “I’ve seen Key West hookers showing less leg.”
She lunged forward.
They exchanged a flurry of blows, but in the end Buffy got him by the throat and yanked him to the end of the chains; they pulled his arms up and back offering his chest to her.
Buffy raised her stake.
“Buffy, stop! Spike’s right.”
Buffy faltered and looked back at her friend in disbelief. Under her hand, she felt Spike swallow and then the unmistakable vibrations of laughter.
“I mean, about the kinda late to be picky part, not the…” Buffy saw Willow’s wide-eyed gaze flicker to her bare legs, right before she pasted on a shaky ‘please don’t hurt me’ smile.
Buffy turned back to Spike with a look that promised retribution, and released him with a shove. She could hear his laughter over the clash of chains as he fetched up against the wall.
“I’ll do the deed for you Slayer--” he said, arching himself off the wall in a lazy motion. Buffy absolutely did not watch one of his hands drift idly in the direction of his belt buckle; not-watching was easier now that she was really good and pissed.
“--if you let me out of these chains. You’re going to have to sooner or later anyway.”
“No, the ritual’s not until sundown tomorrow, and there’s no way I can trust you to come back.”
“Think of it as a gesture of good faith.” His knowing smile made her seethe. “Besides, if I don’t show, I’m guessing the World Cup’s going to be Rats vs. Cockroaches for the foreseeable. Isn’t that right, Tonto?”
“If you fail, or she kills you, the climate control kind of gets stuck on summer,” Willow said reluctantly.
“Sand vs. Cockroaches then. Sounds… dry. I’m not trading the comforts of civilization for short nights and a rodent buffet if I can help it. What’s more, if you wait to cut me loose I might not be real useful.”
He leaned forward, his blue eyes earnest. “Vamps go spare if they're chained up long, start chewing off limbs, that sort of thing. I can already feel it starting.”
Buffy made a disgusted sound. “They so do not!”
Spike’s expression soured. “How would you know? Keep Angel chained up all night do you? He’s the type.” His voice dripped scorn.
“He so is n--” She closed her eyes for a moment, and then tipped her head back, shaking her hair off her shoulders. “The prophecy doesn’t say anything about him needing to have limbs, does it Willow?”
“I-uh.”
“Might be worth losing an appendage or two just to avoid waking up to you.” he muttered.
Buffy’s eyes widened. “I know there's nothing about you needing to have a tongue.”
He wagged it at her.
She was in motion before she could think better of it.
***
Buffy gasped soundlessly. The chain bit into her bare arm where it was caught between them, but that didn’t hurt nearly as much as the teeth in her throat. Between one blow and the next, he’d pulled her to him hard enough to knock the wind out of her, grappled her, and sunk his fangs in.
Buffy tensed as the full realization hit, and he responded by working the points just a little deeper; she felt his warning growl against her belly. The vibrations made her dizzy, or maybe that was the arm, tight around her ribcage. She tried to think. If she pulled away, she’d cut her own throat; if she attacked he’d just close his jaws. So she floated there, waiting to see what would happen next, shocked at how little she cared now that the moment was actually here.
There was a sharp, tugging pain and gravity returned; she felt herself stumbling, falling. She caught her balance, and cried out when something barreled into her from behind-Willow. The camp lantern swung wildly, adding to her disorientation. Buffy staggered back a few steps, pushing her friend behind her. She pulled deep breaths into her starved lungs, her emotions see-sawing between anger and disbelief as she stared at the vampire in front of her.
“I said I’ll do it and I will, but not like this.” His voice was rough, fierce, certain. “Unchain me, or the next time I get a hold of you, I’ll have myself a last meal and let it all burn.”
Buffy shook her head, but finally, she did what had to be done, just like she always did. She stalked forward and snagged one of his manacles, yanking it open with both hands.
Chapter 3