Chapter 6

A/n – none of Joss Whedon's characters belong to me… Just borrowing :)

SPOV

I watched as the small smile that had been playing on Buffy's lips instantly fell. Her face paled and her heartbeat picked up. I couldn't believe how quickly her whole demeanour changed; she even looked smaller as she shifted in her seat. 'Po…' she breathed deeply as if to calm her nerves. 'Poker?' she said nervously, alternatively meeting my gaze and looking down at her sandwich, her eyes not seeming to rest.

I tilted my head to the side as I looked her over. 'What's wrong love?'

She shook her head in repudiation and put a strained smile on her face as she met my eyes for a moment before letting them slide off my fact and flit sightlessly through the crypt. 'Nothing,' she said shakily and immediately winced at her own unbelievable tone.

I looked across at her unyieldingly, and when her eyes met mine again, she blew out a sigh and started picking at the bread of her sandwich. 'It's just…' she hesitated for a moment, so I pushed towards her mentally. 'Tell me what's wrong love, and maybe ol' Spike can fix it.' Her eyes flicked back to mine at that, surprise shining through her wide eyes at my teasing tone. I looked back at her at what I hoped was encouragingly, her lips tilted upwards slightly in a small smile. 'I just…' she hesitated a moment longer before continuing, 'I have nothing to wear,' she shrugged picking at her t-shirt with her spare hand.

I froze for a moment. That was not what I expected. I thought she was nervous about other vampires, or that she didn't know how to play poker, but instead it was about whether or not what she was wearing was good enough for a game of underground poker. Not that she knew that's where we were going.

I focused back on Buffy and grinned at her flushed cheeks, realising that she could hear my internal ramblings. I tilted my head as I looked over at her current clothes. She was wearing blue jeans and a plain pink cotton t-shirt. They were both a little worse for wear, mostly because of dirt stains that matched the ones on her palms and forearms. The shirt was also torn a little on her side. Probably from one of the times I pushed her into a wall.

I feel regret flash through me again at the image of Buffy's frightened face, feeling pain as her back hit the wall. I fight the image back down. I hadn't really hurt her, after all. Besides, seeing as I liked the girl, I'd make it up to her. She smiled shyly up at me, and I remembered again that she was following my train of thought. Right, well that got rid of any need to try and mask this so she didn't read too much into it. Easier for me, anyway. I wasn't planning on hurting the girl unless she ran.

I saw her smile fade at that and I felt another pang of regret. I shook it off again, and got off the couch, ready to see what I could do to fix the wardrobe situation my little blonde mind-reader was so concerned about.

'Come on then, love. Don't think I can do much about the pants, but might be able to sort somethin' for a shirt'. I made my way over to the ladder to go back downstairs, and I heard her shuffling off the couch to follow. I swung myself onto the ladder, but then jumped down, not being bothered by the small drop. Buffy followed more slowly, swinging herself around onto the ladder, and then making her way down every individual rung. I watched her come down, and found my gaze caught on the sight of her perky little bottom as she moved down the ladder. After a moment more of staring, I realised that Buffy had stopped moving, and was looking down at me with wide eyes. I could see the fading edges of panic in her gaze, but mostly I saw surprise as she watched me stare at her.

I smile at her wickedly, but made sure that it was soft enough to chase away the last remanent of fear lingering in her eyes. 'Sorry, pet. Got a little distracted.' I nodded to the ground. 'Come on, an' I'll stop my daydreaming.' Her reverie broke at that, and she giggled briefly before making her way quicker down the rest of the ladder. Once she had both feet firmly on the ground, I went over to the dresser to try and find one of my smaller shirts. I heard her perch herself on my bed, and I smirked to myself at the level of comfort she was revealed with that simple act.

BPOV

I sat down warily on the side of Spike's bed, watching him as he rifled through his drawers. I looked down at my dirty jeans and rubbed absentmindedly at a faded grass stain on my knee. There was no way that a different shirt, especially one of Spike's shirts, was going to fix this. I was a complete mess. How were his friends going to react when it looked like he'd plucked me out of a dumpster and put me on a seat next to him? They were going to stare the whole game and I was going to look and feel ridiculous. And if they were staring at me how was I supposed to signal to him what to do? And if I couldn't signal to him properly, then he wouldn't win much money. And if he didn't win much money he may decide that he doesn't like me enough not to eat me after all. I realized that my hand was shaking and that I was rubbing harder at the mark on my jeans. Forcing myself to stop, I curled my hand into a ball so Spike didn't notice.

Turning around in a quick vampiry movement, he tossed a shirt to me, 'How 'bout that one love? It might be a bit big but at least it's clean. I picked up the black shirt and I felt my lips twitch unwillingly into a smile at the colour. Looking up at Spike in his black shirt, jeans and even nails, I noticed for the first time, I didn't know what else I expected.

Realising I had to try it on, I quickly jumped up off the bed and head for the bathroom without saying another word. I closed the door without looking Spike's way and quickly changed.

The moment I had it on I felt a little calmer. I didn't look good, but I looked less dirty. I smoothed the shirt nervously before looking in the mirror for the first time in weeks. I was startled at the girl looking back at me. Her eyes were too big, the bags underneath them were too dark, her face had a gaunt quality that made her look sick rather than slim. Blinking my eyes to make sure they were clear, I looked closer at myself.

I smoothed my hand down my hair. At least it looked nice, thanks to my cleaning it earlier with Spike's shampoo, which I had been half-surprised to see. I hadn't looked at myself in the mirror then, being too anxious at my state of undress. I had showered as quick as possible to make sure that I was clean, and then quickly changed again, watching the door the entire time despite the inevitable sting of soap in my eyes.

I just couldn't shake the idea that Spike was going to change. That all of the sudden the kindness he had shown me would disappear, and instead would be replaced by the same treatment that I was used to. I felt my hands start to shake at the thought, and I jumped as Spike yelled through the door.

'You alright luv?'

Almost stumbling over myself to get to the door in time, after a last glance at myself in the mirror, I opened the door only to almost crash into Spike.

'Woah luv, just wondering if the shirt was orrite,' he said, hands on my shoulders as if to steady me. Peeking into his head, I saw that was exactly what he was doing. I shook my head to try and clear it before smiling up at him, 'does it look ok?'

He looked down at me, and I quickly left his head again at the direction of his thoughts, blushing slightly. He grinned at me, figuring that I had been listening in.

'You look great luv. Now, seeing as this is your first game of –'

'I know how to play poker,' I broke in quickly, hoping that he wouldn't ask me any follow up questions.

'Oh,' he said, blinking in surprise at how abrupt I'd been. I blushed again, but he quickly continued, 'orrite then luv, then seeing as it's our first game together, we'll keep this simple. I'll get you a drink before we start. If someone is gonna beat my hand, just take a sip.'

I blink up at him. That was simple. Much more simple than I was used to. That wasn't going to make him much money.

'Do you think that will work?' I said timidly. He just shrugged at me, 'gotta start somewhere luv, don't want anyone picking up on it'. I just nodded at that, biting my tongue on any further comments.

'Ok. When's the game?'

Looking around the dark basement-style room, I reflected on the fact that Spike had somehow managed to get them both and I barely saw anyone. The only people that I did see were skulking around in doorways ominously, and they had made me suddenly glad that it was Spike I was walking down the ill-lit alleyways with. Not that Spike's thoughts had been a comfort. He was using the same tried and tested technique as last time to make sure I didn't do anything stupid like call for help. Though it was half-hearted at best. I think we both knew I wasn't going to trust any of the strange and unfriendly people that we had seen along the way, even if I had thought they could or would help, and not just end up as Spike's dinner.

The poker game passed in a blur. Funny, how even though I could see that a number of them were demons, and I was guessing the rest weren't human either, that it seemed exactly the same as all the other games I had sat in on. The … people… playing were just as lewd and rude as the men that my father played with, just more openly. But no one really bothered me, and Spike always made sure that I had my trusted glass of something to drink from. He made sure there was always food available too, but I just couldn't stomach it at the moment. I was trying to stay focused on the game, and couldn't bear the idea of being distracted.

There were a few occasions where Spike played despite my warnings. At first, the fear choked me. Had I forgotten to drink? Had he not seen me? But when I desperately tapped into his head to get an answer, I saw that he was being clever in a way my father never was. He didn't want them to get suspicious. Even hearing this, the hand that I could feel gripping, my neck never eased, and I felt like my heart was beating loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

Finally, the game seemed to be winding to a close, with Spike having a generous, but not outrageous, pile of winnings in front of him at the end. I felt like my heart was in my throat as I tried to quickly calculate his winnings, but he collected it quickly and then ushered me out the door, tossing a few words over his shoulder in goodbye to the somewhat grumbling group.

Once we got out, we started to return the same way we had come. But now the roads were full of teenagers and drunk young people. Spike's threats began playing inside my head again, though without much more heart than earlier. He seemed to know by now that I wasn't going to get someone killed on the off-chance that I might get away. Even if I could, I wasn't convinced that I would be better off.

I'd tried to keep myself composed as we walked through what looked like the main street. I felt my hand shaking again, and found it hard to breathe through the rock sized pressure on my chest. It was becoming increasingly hard to do as Spike's endless internal monologue of threats merged with my memories of the last time I hadn't won enough money at poker.

'I'm sorry.' I feel my lip quivering and I try to stop it. Crying never helps. It makes it worse, makes him angrier. Spike looks over at me frowning. 'What?' I feel my body shake as if hit by a blow with that one word. 'I'm sorry. I tried. I really did. But I can try harder, please don't…' I stare up at his blue eyes, not really seeing them anymore. Instead, I could only see hard brown eyes looking back into mine.

'Don't hurt me, please don't do it. I'm sorry; I thought I was trying hard enough. I didn't mean it'. I saw him step closer to me through my blurry eyes and I gasp and stumble backwards, out of his reach. 'No… please no… don't…don't do what you were thinking about. I ca…. can't take it. It'll kill me. Please I'm sorry'. I keep walking backwards as I vaguely recognize that he's still moving forward slowly. Like when he was going to kill me in the alley. I stumbled further backwards and tripped on something, falling on my ass as I kept my eyes trained on the man in front of me. I tried to keep scooting backwards, but I'd hit a wall.

I put my hands in front of me, blocking access to my head. It was always the hits to the head that hurt the most for days. I felt him in front of me and I closed my eyes, pleading with him. 'Please. Don't. I'm so sorry. I'll do better. Please don't hurt me. Don't hurt me. So sorry. Sorry. Sorry…' I felt his hands grip my arms, pulling them down from where they were protecting my face.

I looked into his face and for a moment still didn't see anything but a threatening man towering over me. I had to bite my lip hard to stop myself from crying, and I tried to look away when he gripped my chin between his fingers and forced me to look him in the face. I didn't know what he was doing, trying to scare me more? Eventually I realized that he was talking as well. What could he possibly say that was more terrifying than his silence?

'Buffy!' I jumped at that, and the outline of the man in front of me filled in. His hair changed from a greasy looking brown and became bleached blonde. His eyes bright blue. His skin so pale. Then suddenly the spell was over. I remembered what he'd told me before. That he didn't just want to hurt me for the sake of it. But it wouldn't just be for the sake of it. I failed him. Barely won him anything. But he didn't really look angry right now, he looked somewhat scared.

'Spike?' I whispered, looking him in the eyes for a moment before looking down at the hand that grasped me. 'Look at me love,' he demanded. Surprised, I looked back into his eyes. 'I am not angry at you. You did bloody brilliant tonight. All you could do was tell me what's what. Up to me to do what I had to do to win.' I blinked slowly, trying to take in what he was saying to me so carefully.

'You're not angry with me,' I repeated breathlessly. 'No,' Spike said firmly. I searched his eyes for a minute, then opened my mind to him, prepared for, but not expecting images of my death. I blinked again as I read his thoughts.

'You don't blame me for not winning you more?' I asked, but I had seen his belief in his mind. Spike snorted, 'you already won me enough for us to go shopping tomorrow for some food and some new togs for you.' I furrowed my brow in confusion again.

'You're spending some of that one me?' I asked, stunned. Spike smirked, 'do you fancy wearing those jeans and my shirts forever?'

I put my hand on the hand Spike was using to grasp my chin, and Spike let go of my face instantly, but I kept my hand on Spike's. Looking down, I said under my breath, 'he would have blamed me for only winning that much.' I glanced back up at Spike to see that his gaze had darkened. I tried to retreat, but Spike kept hold on my hand.

'Who was it?' he said harshly. I looked at him in confusion. 'Why does it matter?' Spike looked at me as if I had gone crazy. 'Why love? Because this nutcase has you so screwed up that a vampire is comforting you that he isn't that evil. If you were a normal girl, I would prob'ly horrify you. Instead, it's like I'm you're bloody saviour.'

I felt my face soften at that. 'You're right. This has been the simplest time of my life.' I was still tapped into his head enough to see his conflict at that statement. On the one hand, he was happy because he liked me and wasn't trying to hurt me. On the other hand, he was appalled. 'I shouldn't be the best part of your life. Who. Was. He. Pet?'

I looked up at him. I could tell him, it's not like he really knew who I was and I think I needed to say it out loud. Make it real, even if that reality was horrific. Holding his gaze, I fidgeted with my fingers, and bit my lip where I had split it before. I felt blood seep out, and automatically Spike's hand went up to my face and he swept his thumb against the wound before sticking it in his mouth.

The gesture made me smile, and before I could overthink it I said 'my Dad.'

Please review and let me know how you like the story so far : )