by John Cope



 “It’s about power.”


 Spike closed his eyes when he heard that voice and tried hard to suppress the urge to scream. Dru and the Master haunting him were bad enough but Buffy, when Buffy appeared it was time to reach for the knife and try once more to cut out the soul that was rotting inside him. **Was she real earlier or was it all just another bloody nightmare?**


 He could still hear her and smell her though, the soft sound of her footsteps and the rustle of her clothing, the smell of the soaps and the perfumes that she always wore, all of them right, all of them his girls favourite scents to perfection. She was his girl whenever the demon he had brought back with him took on that manifestation there stood Buffy complete with the cruel half smile he’d seen often enough when they were enemies. The sight was like a knife twisting in his cold dead heart, which is why he was now trying so hard not to look.


  “Well I didn’t stake you so there’s some points for you.” She was standing right beside him now close enough for her body heat to raise the temperature of his dead skin. “And did you see the concern on my face when I saw all those nasty cuts you keep insisting on inflicting on yourself. I even reached out a hand to touch them, not the typical reaction you’d get from a gal confronted unexpectedly by a guy who tried to rape her the last time they met. No I think deep down in some dark place I still care about you.”


  “Wasn’t gonna….” Spike managed to mumble. “I would ‘ave stopped.”


  “Wasn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t.” A hand closed hard around the back of Spike’s head and forced it back, his eyes opened and locked with Glory’s. “Oh please if she hadn’t kicked you off of her you would have had her there and then, fucked her into that floor despite tears and begging and all, you’re a demon, why keep on pretending that your not.”


  Glory pouted and pressed her free hand to her chest. “As a hell god I gotta say that I am deeply offended by your attitude, Mr Blond Do-gooder, Mr Turn on your Own, Mr Sleeps with the Enemy, but hey stud I guess you got yours!”


  Her hand left her chest to settle on his. “Pretty scars pretty boy, you know since I lost my whole yen to get back home I’ve got such a better appreciation of the male human form. And yours is real pretty.” She cocked an eyebrow questioningly. “Care to?”


  Spike was so beaten down that all he could do was try to crawl back as Glory completely failing to wait for a reply bent her head and ran her tongue over the scars that criss crossed the vampires chest, slowly lavering her way up and down and back and too. “You know for a none sweating dead guy you sure taste good and salty Mr Peroxide.”


  “Your blood was always oh so sweet.” The voice changed to Dru’s, her hands dropped to his belt and began to unbuckle it. “Do you remember our games William, how we fed and played, such happy times before she came along and spoiled them?”


“Not her fault,” Spike grabbed Dru’s wrist trying to pull her hands away. “My fault, your fault, Angelus’s fault. Get your ‘ands off me Dru, this is wrong, I don’t deserve this I…”


  The grip he had on her wrists was broken easily, the Mayor was strong after all beneath his disguised humanity, or maybe Spike was weak. “Now stop that young fella, that’s no way to treat your Sire, you should show her the respect she’s due as your elder even if she’s as nutty as a loon.”


  The Mayors right hand came up and gripped Spike under the chin lifting his head up so he could look him in the eye. “You know son you really ought to be more grateful, here you are with three lovely ladies using you for their gratification, and, I might add making more than adequate efforts to ensure you achieve yours. Your situation could be a lot worse. Think yourself lucky Warren, Adam and I aren’t wired in any kind of way you need to worry about.” The Mayor laughed. “Wired, that’s especially true of Adam, and the only one of us boys who might be interested wouldn’t…”


  The smiling face before Spike’s eyes morphed into the monstrous visage of Spike’s great great grandsire. The fingers gripping his chin grew claws that bit into his skin. “…. Lower myself to consort with you.” All the same the Master’s free hand went to work on Spike’s belt again. “I really wonder where I went wrong you see, I wonder if it was turning someone with the taint of human disease. Angelus was an accident of gypsy magic I’ll grant her that but then to have a grand childer voluntarily put himself in your current position and then to die herself giving birth to a human child. It all adds up very badly I’m sure you’ll agree?”


  The Master shook his head in disappointment. “Where did I go wrong I wonder. Not that it matters now I suppose since I intend to make a lot more of my second chance than she did, you on the other hand have no second chance, even when she finds out what you’ve done she’ll just think it’s a pathetic attempt to copy Angelus or know you’ve been tricked into this position.”


  “And know that your real purpose 17 was to have your chip removed and do her harm.” Adam was back but only briefly the Master returned almost immediately. “So that you could kill her and turn her, well we’ll accomplish that for you my boy.” The old ones lips closed in on Spikes as he added. “And you can be comforted to know that the face that we’ll wear will be…”


  “…This.” Buffy’s breath was sweet on his lips. “When we take over her world.”


  As her tiny hands wormed their way into his pants her lips locked on his, even if he had wanted to break free he could not, not could he stop his traitorous flesh from reacting to the touch of her hands. She was Buffy no different to his confused mind in this form than the girl he had enjoyed so often in his crypt. “I miss you baby.”


  “I know.” She moved to cover him her clothing vanishing revelling the toned athletic body that he so admired, she straddled him their bodies joining easily. Her hands locked round his wrists and pinned them above his head. “You miss the danger of me, you miss my power!”


  He smiled up at her his eyes open now, the attempts to break free ceasing with the pleasure of her heat. The first time this had happened he had cried, he had begged her to stop not realizing in his mind how that helped the scene she was recreating, now he just laid back an enjoyed, he was hers, or Dru’s or Glory’s, they owned him. He was in their power.




The End