DISCLAIMER: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its
characters all belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I'm not making any money
with this, it's just for fun... so sod off!
And the quote at the beginning of the story comes from the song Please Mr.
Jailer in Cry baby.
SPOILERS: Absolutely no spoilers... this is AU
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 * Chapter 5 * Chapter 6 *
Chapter 7 *Chapter
8 * Chapter 9 Chapter 10 * Chapter
11 * Chapter 12 * Chapter 13 * Chapter 14 * Chapter 15 * Chapter 16
Taking charge
Please Mr. Jailer
Won't you let my man go free
He don't belong in prison
But is guilty as can be
But the only crime he's guilty of is
Simply loving me.
"Ms. Summers! Over
here!"
Buffy turned to face the
middle-age, British man approaching her. He had a warm smile and his hand was extended
to shake hers in welcome. She returned the smile, and, struggling with the box
she was holding, managed to take the offered hand.
"It is so nice to
finally get to meet you. I heard great things about you Ms. Summers. It really
is an honor..."
Buffy smiled wider at
how flustered the man was getting. "Nice to meet you... uh...?"
"Oh, pardon my rudeness.
I'm Rupert Giles. But please call me Giles. That's what everybody calls me around here.
I'm the head of security."
"Well it's really nice
to meet you Giles. I'm sure we'll have a good time working together. And
please, don't let my looks fool you. I might look twenty, but I'm actually
forty five. I have a good plastic surgeon." She tried to joke goodheartedly.
Giles laughed. "Do
people give you a hard time regarding your age?"
"Well, lets put it this
way. A twenty-six year old, five feet two, very petite blonde, doesn't exactly
strike fear in people's hearts. But you'd be surprised. I actually started
working at the L.A. county prison part-time at the age of 17. It was my
mother's idea. She thought working in prison would put the fear of God in her
rebellious teenage daughter and keep her out of trouble. I had a bad habit of
getting myself into fights and other minor stuff like smoking pot and shoplifting
bras."
Giles chuckled at that.
He took the box she was holding and they started walking towards her new
office.
"So anyway. I started
working there part-time, and it did more than put me back on the right track;
it gave me a career. I got my masters degree in criminology and was so
passionate by it that I graduated first of my class. So yeah, twenty-six is
young for a prison warden, but I've been doing this for almost ten years. I
guess it counts. Plus--to be quite honest with you Giles--nobody wanted this
position."
"Hum.. Yes. I can't say
that I am surprised to hear this." Giles said, taking a seat in the big comfy
leather chair facing Buffy.
She leaned forward, her
forearms resting on her luxurious mahogany desk. She was really curious to find
out why such a prestigious position had been left wide open for so long. Not
that the answer would make her change her mind about taking the position. She
was just a very curious girl. Always had been. "And why is this?"
"Nothing you should
worry yourself with. I am sure you will do just fine here Ms. Summers."
"First, please call me
Buffy when we're not around the prisoners. And don't worry, you won't scare me
away. I'm just curious as to why exactly nobody wanted to be assigned to
Sunnydale. It seems to be a nice, quiet little town."
"Really, it's just a
string of bad events related to the wardens that worked here at one point or
another. One was corrupted, the other one uh... hung himself. And two also, well...
they got killed. Not in this office." He added quickly, not wanting to spook
the young woman. "There is always a lot of action in this prison. Bad bloods,
if I may say so. But I have a good feeling about you, Buffy. I think you'll do
a great job here. And I will help you the best I can. I've been hoping to see
things change around here for a long time."
"They will. I'll make
sure of that." Buffy smiled.
Giles got up. "I better
go back to work. If you need anything at all, you can call me and I'll be
there. When are you starting work?"
"First thing tomorrow
morning. I'll make my little speech after breakfast in the cafeteria."
"Alright then. I'll make
sure everybody is there."
She watched as Giles
exited her office.
**Well, that will be at
least one ally in the place.** she thought sourly, remembering the way the
security guards at the main entrance had snickered when she introduced herself
earlier.
Making a reputation for
herself would be hard. She knew she'd not only have to break in the prisoners,
but her employees as well. The next day, and the following weeks, would be
crucial. She could show no weakness, or it would be the end. Her plan was to be
hard on them at first so they would know who they were dealing with and that
she wouldn't take any bullshit from them, then soften up a bit later on. After
ten years working in jail, you have no choice but to understand a few things
about psychology.
Buffy gathered a few
piles of papers and files that were scattered all over her desk, and settled
down on the leather couch by the window. She wanted to look through the files
of some of the disruptive convicts that were pointed out to her. She didn't
want any surprises and preferred to be well prepared.
After hours of going
through page after page of typical prison bad behavior, she decided that she'd
better go home, practice what she would say the next day, and try to catch some
sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Standing by the big
window in her office the next morning, the blonde woman looked down at herself
for what felt like the thousandth time in the past hour.
**This is completely
wrong** she thought once more while looking at the outfit she had chosen in a
moment of pure panic, mere moments before she had to leave the house. She
pulled at her light green silk shirt, then straightened it. She did the two
first buttons, then undid them again. Flattened an imaginary wrinkle on her
dark gray jacket, and finally let out a frustrated sigh. Alright, she could at
least admit it to herself: she was nervous. Fidgeting with her clothes was
usually a good sign of it.
"Geez girl, get a grip!"
she said out loud to herself.
"Am I interrupting
something?"
Startled, Buffy turned
to face the new comer. "Oh, Giles! Good morning. Please come in. You were only
interrupting an insecurity crisis. Nothing important." She tried to laugh, but
it sounded a little fake.
Giles took a look at the
beautiful young woman standing by the window. She had done her long blonde hair
up in a severe twist and was wearing black framed glasses, but it did nothing
to hide her sensuality and natural beauty. She was simply stunning. He briefly
wondered why would such a vibrant young woman want to work in a prison.
"You certainly look good
for someone who is going to give a speech to convicts Buffy..."
"See! I knew it! It's
too sexy isn't it? Not enough 'I'm the boss here; I'm gonna kick your ass if
you don't respect me'. I should have gone for the turtleneck instead of that
stupid shirt. If I hadn't left the house in such a hurry... Or.. or just jeans
and my good old combat boots. Stilettos!? What was I thinking? I'll postpone
the..."
"Buffy! Please, stop.
That's not what I meant. What you're wearing is perfect. Besides, we both know
you would get the same reaction no matter what you're wearing."
"Yeah. Cheers, laughs
and crude remarks. I'm expecting that, don't worry."
They were interrupted by
the crackling sound of Giles' two-way radio.
"Excuse me for a moment
would you."
"Of course."
He answered the call.
"Giles here. Over."
"Giles, we have a
problem in the cafeteria. A fight got out of control. We need you here as soon
as possible. Over."
"I'm on my way. Over."
He turned to Buffy who
was waiting for an explanation. "What's going on?"
"There seems to be a bit
of trouble in the cafeteria. I'll go check on it."
"I'll come with you."
"No... stay here. It's our
job to get in the middle of these fights. I'll contact you if it gets too out
of control, and let you know if anybody was injured."
"Fine. And bring whoever
is responsible for starting that riot straight to my office. I'm sensing my
first act of discipline coming on. I'm going to make a big show out of it; set
an example."
Giles nodded and rushed
out of the office.
Buffy paced her office
for almost an hour waiting for Giles to come back with the troublemakers. She
was starting to have a bad feeling about taking this job. Maybe it was
doomed. Rule number one: never accept what nobody else wants. But no. She had
to be stubborn and take the damn job even if she knew that something was fishy.
**Yep, that's me alright...
always a sucker for a good challenge**
She shook her head; she
was getting increasingly bitter and that was not like her. This was supposed to
be her dream job. She wasn't supposed to get discouraged after only a few
hours. And besides, even if it had been a bad idea to accept the job, it
couldn't be all bad... something good had to come out of it eventually...
Someone knocked at the
door.
"Come in."
Giles walked in. "The
situation is under control. Everybody is back in their cells. The guy who
started the fight is at the infirmary being treated for his injuries. He isn't
in good shape, but he'll live."
"What's the name?"
"Parker. Parker Abrams."
"What about the other
guy? He wasn't fighting alone, was he?"
"One of the guards is waiting
with him outside. But really, Buffy, it's a waste of time."
She went to lean on her
desk and crossed her arms protectively over her chest. "And why's that exactly?
I assure you, Giles, that I'm perfectly capable of scaring a con if I want to."
"I'm sure you can,
Buffy, but this one is special. William Rayne. You won't get anything out of
him. He isn't the easiest bloke to talk to. And any punishment you will throw
at him he will actually enjoy. Send him to the hole for a week, he'll see it as
a vacation. Make him reorganize the entire library, he'll be happy like a
little boy on Christmas morning. Everything is fine by him as long as he's far
away from the other guys. I just thought I'd warn you because nobody has
successfully punished him since he's been here."
"Giles. Just bring him
in would you? I think I can manage on my own." She didn't mean to snap at him,
but she was getting annoyed. One of the touchiest topics for Buffy Summers had
always been her competence. She was quite capable of doing her job, and didn't
like people to question it. Even when they were just trying to help.
"All right then. If you...
wish to waste your time." Giles said stiffly before walking out. He came back
with another guard and the prisoner who had his hands handcuffed in front of
him.
He was a bit shorter
than the two men escorting him but he still somehow seemed imposing. Maybe the
way he walked, or the way he stood. But Buffy couldn't see his face--his eyes
never left the ground. All she could see was the top of his bleached blonde
head.
She motioned for the
guards to make him sit in the leather chair, then waited for them to leave the
room. When she realized that they intended to stay there, she finally opened
her mouth.
"Mr. Rayne and I have to
talk... in private please."
Giles didn't seem to
approve, but he followed the other guard anyway. "We'll be right outside the
door if you need us Ms. Summers."
"Thank you Giles. But
I'm sure it won't be necessary."
She waited until he shut
the door, then moved from the spot where she was standing to sit on the desk in
front of William. He was still looking down. A few strands of bleached hair
were falling in front of his face, hiding him further from her. She could see
some dried blood in it. But except for that, he seemed fine. So she crossed her
arms over her chest and decided to wait in silence for a little while, to see
if he'd eventually look up.
His eyes moved slowly.
They lingered on the sexy shoes for a while before moving up to admire the
long, slim legs covered in tailored gray pants. His curiosity got the best of
him and he peeked through the hair that was hiding his eyes.
What he saw was the most
beautiful woman he had ever seen.
What Buffy saw was the
most beautiful man she had ever seen.
They both remained silent,
but this time, it was in shock.
After fighting to regain
control of her breathing, and make sure that her voice wouldn't sound too
squeaky, Buffy finally spoke.
"So, William, I..."
"It's Spike, pet.
William died the day he was falsely accused of something he didn't do."
"... Oh."
What are best friends for?
Late afternoon, Buffy
unlocked the front door of her new house with a heavy sigh. She was tired, and
glad to finally be home. It was a really nice house. Just big enough for her.
All on one level, with lots of open space and windows everywhere. But the main
attraction was the backyard with its gigantic pool. She loved pools and had
never had one before. Buffy was renting the house from her friend Xander for
almost nothing. When he found out that she was moving to Sunnydale, he offered
it to her right away. Xander owned an L.A. based construction company, but as a
sideline, he liked to buy houses and rent them. He had quite a few across
California and it was making him a rich man. Rich enough, at least, to give his
childhood friend a really good deal. She wasn't gonna complain about it.
She dropped her keys on
the small table by the door and abandoned her briefcase as well. She wasn't in
the mood to look through paperwork tonight. She unbuttoned her silk shirt,
leaving it hanging open on either side of her body, and made her way to the
kitchen. She needed a drink badly. She toed off her mint green sexy stilettos
on the way there, leaving them in the middle of the place. Yes, she was messy,
she knew it, and she didn't care.
Buffy took a look around
the kitchen, still a little overwhelmed by how luxurious it was, with the shiny
black granite counter tops, mahogany cupboards with glass doors, slate floor.
And the sink was so big that she could probably take a bath in it. She went to
the wine rack and picked a bottle of red wine. As she was pouring herself a
glass, the phone rang. She took her glass with her and went to pick up the
cordless.
"Hey Cordy." She said in
the receiver after taking a look at the caller display. She took a magazine
from the pile on the kitchen table and went to sit outside by the pool to enjoy
the sunset.
"So? How was your first
day as the brand new tormenter of Sunnydale prison residents?" Her friend Cordelia
Chase asked, every bit her usual enthusiastic self.
"It was... bizarre, to say
the least."
"It was bizarre?
I'm afraid you'll have to explain further girlfriend cuz good old Cord isn't
getting it. What do you mean, bizarre?"
"I don't know, just a
weird day. I didn't even do my speech for one thing."
"Aww! What happened? And
it was such a good speech too! Worthy of the award for Monologue of the year.
What a loss."
"You're a riot, Chase;
did anybody ever tell you that?"
"You know I love ya. I'm
just teasing. Go on. What happened?"
"I was just about to go
to the cafeteria to introduce myself to the prisoners when there was a huge
fight. You know my luck, right? I don't even know why I'm surprised." Buffy
rolled her eyes and took a sip of her wine. The lights in the pool came on
automatically as the sky got darker and Buffy got up to go sit with her feet in
the water.
"Ok, so--yeah, there was
a fight." Cordelia commented matter-of-factly. "Big freaking deal: it's a
prison. So, what else?"
"Yeah..." Buffy trailed,
not sure she really wanted to share the rest of the story. "You know... nothing
interesting. I just talked to that guy who was involved in the fight... he hadn't
started it, he got attacked by another convict. Anyway, I talked to him and..."
"And he was really sexy
and horny, so you pushed him on top of your desk and had hot sweaty decadent
sex with him. Wow, how convenient: the handcuffs were already on him!"
Buffy's eyes widened in
horror. "Cordelia Chase! You are such--a whore! Who do you think I am? I would
never have sex with a con or even THINK of having sex with a con... I have higher
expectations, I'll have you know."
"Says the girl whose
last boyfriend, Ford, pretended to be a lawyer when he was in fact a janitor at
a lawyer's office. If you don't mind, I'll pick the hot rugged prisoner over
that loser anytime of the day." She snickered with contempt.
"Whatever Cord, I'm not
telling you anything else."
"Come on! I'm dying
here! You know gossip is my bread, my wine and my air. Spill the beans before I
wither and die like a flower without sun and water.." Cordelia whined, knowing
she'd get what she wanted anyway. She always did.
"And that is exactly why
I won't tell you anything. You're just a big gossip machine. Yep, gossip
machine, that's what you are, missy. You know what will happen? I'll tell you
what you want to know, you'll shriek in my ear in excitement, and hang up the
phone on me. Less than an hour after that, it will be all over the news and
I'll be out of a job."
"So you DID have hot
monkey sex! Good for you!" When Cordelia Chase was onto something, she sure as
Hell wouldn't let go.
"Did not, you big
freak!!"
"Alright, I'll stop
teasing you. But what's the deal with that guy you were talking about? Was he
hot?"
Buffy resisted for a few
more seconds, then finally let it out.
"... Delicious."
As she had predicted,
her friend shrieked deafeningly into the phone.
"Buffy Summers!"
"Devilishly handsome.
Very lickable. To die for. Sinfully gorgeous. Shall I go on?"
"Whatever happened to
your rule about prisoners?" Cordelia asked in a more serious voice.
"Huh? What rule? I don't
have a rule..."
"You do now, missy:
Don't ogle them!"
"Cordelia, just how
stupid do you think I am?"
**very, very stupid.
Even more than that: Idiotic.** Buffy thought, ashamed of herself.
"You think I would risk
my job to flirt with a guy who's gonna spend the next twenty years behind the
bars, all this because he has exquisite blue eyes, a tasty looking lower lip and
perfect cheekbones? I'm not that dumb. Can't a girl tell her best friend, after
a long, horrible day, 'Hey, I've seen a hot guy today' without intending to do
anything about it?"
"You know what Buff? I
wasn't actually serious, but you're reacting so strongly about this that I'm
starting to worry for real now."
"Don't. I'm sorry I
freaked. I had a rough day. I wasn't serious either."
"Sure?"
"Sure."
"Good. Now don't go
looking at that cute prison boy again or Queen C's gonna come over and slap
some sense into that blonde head of yours. Understood? And I'm only saying that
because I'm your best friend, not because I would actually enjoy bitch-slapping
you around."
"As if you'd be able to
anyway. I might be tiny, but I fight dirty. You know it, you've seen me in
action."
Cordelia cleared her
throat. She remembered all too well Buffy's bar-fighting days. "Yeah. Let's
forget about the bitch-slapping... So not going there with you, girl. You're too
much of a psycho for me. I could break a nail or..."
"Or your four-thousand
dollar nose?"
"Screw you, my nose is
real. Mother Nature gave me that nose! You're just jealous!"
Buffy laughed. "Yes,
keep telling yourself that if it helps... You know what Cordy, I've had a rough
day. I think I'll go soak in the tub for a while then hit the pillow."
"And have naughty dreams
about hot prison boy?"
"Whatever, you perv."
"I'm sure you and your
hand will have hours of fun together."
"Fuck you."
"Good night to you too!"
Buffy hung up and shook
her head slightly. Cordelia and she had been best friends since high school.
She was like a sister to her. But sometimes she had to wonder what kind of
drugs she was on. Yeah right, as if she would ever do--that, thinking
of...
**Who are you trying to
fool, you big liar? Wasn't it your intention anyway? Long, hot, bubble-bath,
then go to bed and...**
"Argh!!"
Annoyed with herself for
not being able to get her mind out of the gutter, Buffy got up and walked
angrily back to the house, her wet feet making slapping noise on the concrete.
She slammed the patio door shut behind her and locked it for the night. She
turned the lights off after rinsing out her wine glass and went to her
bathroom, hoping to finally be able to relax.
She had no such luck.
While soaking in the fragrant hot water, surrounded by her favorite scented
candles, she couldn't stop the thoughts from bouncing around in her head like a
Ping-Pong ball.
**Be strong, I said. Be
merciless with them. Show them who's the boss.** Buffy silently mocked herself.
**First week is crucial,
don't show any weakness or they'll eat you alive... Yeah right. Chatting up Mr.
Cheekbones, giggling like a schoolgirl at everything he said, then sending him
back without any real punishment sure made me look like a real dictator.**
She let herself slide
down in the tub until her head was under the water, hoping to silence her
infuriating thoughts. Finally accepting the fact that nothing would take her
mind off the morning's events, she got out of the water and wrapped her wet
body in a giant, plush, towel.
Once in the bedroom, she
gathered the clothes that she had thrown all over her king size bed that
morning, and dropped them on the floor, too tired to bother putting them away.
Then she slid under the covers and turned the light off...
And stared at the
ceiling.
...stared...
...and stared some more...
There was a tiny little
crack in the paint...
Looked like a lightning...
Or maybe mountain tops
if you looked the other way...
Or...
Buffy reached out to grab
the pillow near her and shoved it on her face to muffle yet another scream of
frustration.
Giving up the fight
against her own mind's desires, she closed her eyes and finally allowed herself
to relax. She let her brain recreate the image of the blonde man who had
captured her attention so effectively and gave in to the urge to slide her
hands along her warm body. Her finger tips ran over her firm stomach, the
feather like touch making her skin tingle.
Those eyes. She would never forget the intensity of
those eyes as he looked up at her. So truthful; the emotions swirling in those
blue pools--Like the ocean on a stormy day.
She should have been annoyed by the smirk stretching
his generous lips, but she couldn't bring herself to be. He had that boyish look,
with his hair all messed up and his shiny blue eyes... She couldn't even remember
why he was in her office.
Buffy let out a soft
moan when she finally dipped her slender fingers between her legs. She was
surprised at how wet she was. How wet just thinking about this guy made her.
She knew that if she
looked at herself in a mirror right now, she would probably see herself
blushing like a virgin bride. She couldn't explain why but she felt ashamed for
thinking of him while pleasuring herself. She could see him so clearly in her
mind that it made it all too real. Especially since she knew she really
shouldn't be thinking about him this way.
She flicked her clit a
few times, nearly jumping off the bed at the first stroke. She hadn't been that
turned on in ages-Make it never. Spike. The nickname was so fitting.
"So, Spike huh? How did you get that nickname, if you
don't mind me asking?... And if the tale isn't too gory."
That laugh. He had such a sexy laugh. A light rumble
coming from deep within his chest. And it made his eyes crinkle up--the blue
getting deeper and darker.
"No pet, nothing too bloody. Well... a little. Stabbed a
big wanker in the shoulder with a railroad spike. His buddies and him were
attacking a guy for no good reason. I do enjoy a good spot of violence, but I
can't say I care much for an unfair fight. He lived. I got myself a nickname
and a new best mate."
"He forgave you that?"
"Not that guy, luv; the one I helped. Charles Gunn."
"Oh. Right."
Alright, reliving that
conversation wasn't exactly the biggest turn on. Maybe she could skip it.
Though she did have a big grin on her face while thinking about their too short
talk.
Buffy chuckled and
pumped her fingers harder inside of her. She couldn't believe just how silly
that guy was making her.
She took the morning
scene and rearranged it a bit. In her mind, she was now wearing a short black
leather skirt instead of her suit pants.
**What was I thinking
wearing pants anyway?...** she thought, still annoyed with her choice of outfit,
but not for the same reasons that she had worried in the morning.
She let the fantasy play
out in her head.
In a perfect imitation of Basic Instincts, she crossed
and uncrossed her long legs. She could see Spike getting up from his seat and
stalking towards her with a predatory look on his face.
In her bed, Buffy moaned
from the erotic image she had just created in her head, and the action of her
hands on her oversensitive flesh.
Spike put one hand on each of her knees to spread her
legs and then slid his hands up her thighs, his eyes never leaving hers. As his
hands traveled up he pushed her skirt higher, giving him better access to her
soaked panties. He leaned forward and kissed her, caressing her soft lips with
the tip of his tongue, just as one of his thumbs slid underneath the elastic
band of her satin underwear and brushed against her clit. She was so turned on
that this light contact made her come right away.
Buffy came with a
frustrated whimper. She wanted the real thing, not some cheap imitation her
brain could come up with.
**Yeah, but that will
NEVER happen girl. Put it in that stubborn little blonde head of yours and move
on!** With her hand still buried between her legs, she turned on her side and
fell asleep almost instantly.
Imaginary freedom
After guiding the
prisoner through one drab hallway after another, the guard unlocked the
handcuffs and pushed Spike outside of the building and into the equally dull
yard. Everything in this soddin place was gray and grayer, with a touch of
beige and greenish gray here and there. Spike had never considered himself a
fan of bright colors and all that, but he swore to all Gods, or whoever was
ruling this bleedin world, that if he ever got out of this Hell, nothing gray
would ever be allowed in his house ever again.
Spike took a moment to
massage his sore wrists then looked up, just as a few drops of cold rain
splashed on his face.
"Bloody great."
He shook his head in
disbelief. Even the sky matched the surroundings. How appropriate. He took his
pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and lit one up, wondering if his
sudden acute awareness of the décor's drabness had anything to do with his
earlier meeting with the new warden. The monotone environment seemed even
duller when compared to the sparkling young woman.
"Get a grip mate..." Spike
mumbled to himself, cigarette dangling from his lips.
He heard his name being
called and turned to face in the direction where the voice came from. His
friend Gunn was coming towards him.
"Hey man! What' you
doin'g here? I thought for sure you'd disappear for a week after what happened
in the cafeteria. How come they didn't throw your ass in isolation?"
Spike smirked. "Seems
like there's some kind of justice in this world after all. Who would have known."
Gunn chuckled. "I know
you survive on sarcasm Spike, but lets not push it."
When there was no
indication that his friend was going to say anything about what happened,
Charles sighed and rolled his eyes at the blonde man.
"Am I gonna have to beat
it out of you or are you gonna tell me what happened in there?"
Spike looked at Gunn
like he'd just remembered the man was there.
"Oh. Right..." They
started walking towards a more secluded area. "Nothing happened."
Gunn gave Spike a 'don't
give me that shit' look. "So you're telling me you almost killed a guy, got
dragged by your hair out of the cafeteria and into the new warden's office, and
nothing happened? What kind of a fucking moron do you think I am?"
Spike flicked the
remains of his cigarette away and sat on the cold ground with his back to the
metal fence before answering.
"You're mum would be
very cross with you for using such foul language. I'm bloody fucking sure."
"Ha. Ha. So, what
happened?"
"Nothing. Happened. Got
sent to the warden's office, the chit asked me my side of the story, I told her
what happened, and she sent me on my merry way."
"Alright then." Gunn
seemed skeptical, but didn't want to push the issue. He chose another tactic
instead. "So, what was she like? You got to see her before everybody else, now
you're gonna have to share the details with your buddy. "
"Real ugly thing. Old
and fat, with those yellow teeth. Nasty."
"You're shitting me
man." Charles gave Spike a horrified look. They had all expected it to be bad,
but never that bad.
"Yes I am. And it's
bloody entertaining."
"Making you eat rocks
would be entertaining too, but you don't see me doing it." Charles smiled
smugly as Spike gave him the finger. "So, should I repeat the question? What
does she look like?"
A bloody vision of perfection and beauty. A goddess.
With the most mesmerizing green eyes, hair like melted gold, and a smile that
could brighten this Hellhole.
"She was alright I
guess. If you like the type. Short little California bird with the blonde hair and
the tan."
"Blonde California babe, huh? Just the type of chicks I dig."
"Not a chance mate.
Don't waste a minute even thinking about the chit. She's way out of your
league, not to mention out of reach." Spike wondered briefly who he was talking
too when saying this. Gunn, or himself.
"Relax man. A guy's
allowed to fantasize. Besides, I haven't even seen her yet. But I can't wait
now."
"She owns your arse. The
chit is here for one purpose, and one purpose only: make your life a living
hell. Do you really want to start fantasizing about her? My advice to you mate
is to be faithful to Halle and Beyonce. Besides, you'll be disappointed." Spike
shrugged hoping to look casual. "She's really not that hot."
Ms. Summers leaning towards him, her blonde mane cascading
over her shoulder, flashing him her million dollar smile.
The image crossed his
mind briefly, but just long enough to make his cock twitch in his pants. His
hand reached for his cigarettes of its own volition. He hoped Gunn didn't
notice the flame trembling when he lit the smoke. But his friend just kept on
talking, oblivious to the blonde man's state of mind.
"Yeah... I guess you're
right. My girls would get pissed if I'd think about some other chick. And if
she's working as penitentiary warden, there's gotta be something seriously
wrong with her. Who in their right mind would chose to come to prison
everyday? "
"Strangely, it didn't
cross my mind to ask. Maybe you could attack someone, or try to escape. You'll
end up in her office and you can ask her yourself. Then you'll have a month or
two in isolation so you'll have plenty of time to ponder her bloody answer."
"Cute." Charles snorted.
"So, she really didn't do anything to you? I still find it a little hard to
believe that she'd let you go like that. It's her first day at work, she's got
something to prove, doesn't she? Not that I think you deserve discipline man. I
mean, I was there. I know Parker attacked you for no reason other than he's
Parker."
"She did discipline me a
little." Spike finally said.
"What, she got her
paddle out of the closet and spanked you? Was it one of those black satin and
pink feathers ones, with 'dominatrix' written on it?"
"Do you even listen to
the shit that comes out of your mouth?"
"Come on, what did she
do?"
"Extra therapy sessions
and she took me away from the license plates production line and sent me to
work at the library. Permanently."
"What?!" Gunn cried out
indignantly. "Dude, that's no punishment! You hate making license plates and
love the library!"
Spike shrugged.
"What is this? Did you
bat your pretty eyelashes at the woman?"
"Did not you wanker. And
there's nothing pretty 'bout my eyelashes. They're manly."
Gunn took a good look at
his friend. "Oh God, that's why you don't want to answer any questions! You
like her! You liiiike her" he said in a sing-song voice, sounding like a twelve
year old school boy.
"Would you sod off
already and..."
Both men looked up when
they heard someone clearing their throat to get attention. Two of the guys were
standing there. Andrew and Jonathan. Also known as Spike's most devoted
groupies. Those two were the kind of guys that you'd imagine more easily
sitting at home in front of their computers chatting about Star Wars, than as
permanent occupants of a penitentiary. But they were in for massive Internet
fraud as well as being accomplice in a girl's murder. Their new occupation:
stalking Spike.
Spike sighed, annoyed
beyond words at seeing the two boys.
"What the bloody Hell do
you want? Don't you have someone else to drive stalkers? Go play D&D,
exchange Star Trek cards... whatever it is you geeks do nowadays."
When Andrew didn't open
his mouth to talk, Jonathan elbowed him in the ribs. Andrew yelped.
"Hey! That hurt you
freak--Oh--yeah. Huh.. We, we were wondering..."
"We wanted to know,
since you've met the new warden before everybody else, and we think that's
pretty neato what you did to that jerk Parker by the way, he soooo deserved it
for attacking you like that, he's such a jerk... and that cool move you did... man,
how did you do that? It looked like something right out of Star wars, you know
in Return of the Jedi when..."
Gunn growled. "If you
don't stop rambling and cut to the chase, you have no idea what I'm gonna do to
you."
Jonathan's eyes bulged out
comically at the threat. "Right. Anyway, what's she like? Cause, you know, to
be mentally prepared. Is she really bad? What does she look like? Is she like..."
Spike rubbed his
temples, feeling the headache forming. "You starting to turn blue there, Spock.
Take a deep breath."
Andrew gave Jonathan a
nasty look and hissed between his teeth: "Shut up, he'll think we're losers."
Spike didn't even bother
pretending he didn't hear. "I pretty much already think you are, so don't worry
bout it." He rolled his eyes at the two geeks. "She's a real evil bint,
alright? Now you be good nerds and be on your merry way."
"What do you mean she's
evil? What did she do?" Andrew asked, curious.
"She's real scary.
Yelled a lot, gave me enough shit to do that I'll have to come back after I die
to finish. Now leave. I'm sure you're dying to tell everybody."
Spike flicked his
cigarette butt at them with a scold on his face. They backed up hurriedly, not
wanting to push their luck.
"Why did you lie?"
"Don't know. The bird's
been real nice to me, I'd be the biggest wanker in the world if I'd go tell
everybody. How would she get respect if she already has the reputation of being
soft on her first day on the job?"
"You liiiiiike her!"
"And do you like your
teeth the way they are? Cause I can rearrange them if you don't shut your
bloody gob."
Gunn made kissing noises
and laughed when Spike gave him a warning growl.
"What are you? Twelve?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"LIGHTS OUT."
Spike stared at the
shadows on the wall for the longest time, listening to the not so familiar
prison's sounds. He had been told that you get used to it after a while and
don't even hear it anymore, but it had been six months for him and it still
felt like his first day... everyday.
That old saying about
getting used to everything? That was bullocks. Certain things were just too
horrible for a human mind to get past. Maybe it depended on who you were. Spike
could see how a ruthless murderer, a rapist, or someone who spent the best
years of his life in unmentionable dives and dark alleys, could possibly call
this place home. After all, you had free food. Not very good, but still. And
you had cable TV, a gym, you could even study if you felt like it. For some, it
was the bloody Hilton, that's what it was. Or maybe more like the Super 8
motel.
But this world was not
his. He didn't belong there. He had always loved things of beauty. The little
boy who grew up wanting to become a poet or write stories about love and
fantasy worlds, was lost in the confined cell. The only freedom he had left was
his imagination.
Spike closed his eyes,
trying to erase from his mind the images of the steel bars, the concrete floor
and walls, the chair bolted to the floor. He felt so exposed in the open cell,
under the very thin blanket; Snyder, his cell mate, snoring loudly in the cot
right underneath his own. The noises were so near that he could almost hear
Gunn breathing in his own cell. He forced himself to block the sounds out. To
not feel the rough blanket against his skin. The cold. It was all making it
hard for him to escape to his own world. But he was trying anyway. Every night
he was trying, but now, he had a motivation. She made it easier. Behind
his closed eyelids, he saw the world as it should be.
He was walking across UCLA's campus under the bright
afternoon sun. He had never met Drusilla Blackwell. Didn't know the name. Angel
and Darla didn't even exist. Just him, under the sun. Free.
There was a new literature teacher and she wanted to
see him to talk about one of his papers. At least that's what the email he
received earlier said. He hadn't even had a class with her yet so he didn't
know what to expect.
Spike turned on his
side, wincing as the cot protested loudly. He curled up in a protective manner.
Habit he picked up on his very first horrible night in jail.
Spike walked through a long succession of sunny
hallways and came to a stop in front of the teacher's office. She had obviously
just moved into the office because the plaque on the door hadn't been changed.
Instead, a piece of paper covered it and a delicate handwriting said: Buffy
Summers.
His light knock on the door was quickly answered by a
feminine voice.
"Come in please."
Spike pushed the door open. There she was. His dream girl.
Looking like a goddess. The sunrays streaming through the window behind her
were putting a halo around her golden hair making her look like a vision. God
she was perfect. The strap of her yellow sundress sliding down her tanned
shoulder...
Spike frowned.
*Sundress? Not very teacher-like... Oi! Sod off! It's my bloody dream and she'll
wear a sundress if I want her to.*
He rolled his eyes at
his own internal argument, and reached down under the blanket to touch his
already painfully hard erection. His cock jumped, desperately needing the
attention.
Spike just stood there without saying a word. He
couldn't have even if he wanted to. They were staring at each other, the
electricity flying between them. She finally broke the silence.
"Mr. Rayne, right?"
He nodded numbly. "...William."
"Shut the door and lock it, William."
Spike took hold of his
hard cock and gave it a few slow strokes. He stiffened a moan, not wanting to
attract attention to himself.
"You wanted to see me Ms. Summers?"
Buffy crooked her finger and motioned for him to
approach.
"I saw you this morning walking around campus" She
said in a breathy voice, shaking her golden hair on her shoulders.
Spike took a step towards where she was sitting on her
desk.
"I just needed to find out who you were and... " She
waited, looking at him as he got closer. "...meet you in person."
He was so close that he could feel her breath on his
face, smell her perfume. Her tiny little hand reached down to caress the bulge
that had been forming in his pants. She never broke eye contact while her
nimble little fingers were tracing the contour of his penis through the fabric
of his trouser. Her lips were so moist and shiny... so close he could almost
taste her.
Without a warning, she unzipped his pants and took his
throbbing shaft out.
Spike gripped his cock
harder and started pumping at a fast pace, trying to convince himself that it
was Buffy giving him a hand job, not himself. It was getting harder to stay
quiet but it wouldn't do to have a guard walking in front of his cell and bring
attention to him by making some loud, rude comment--they did it all the time,
but he himself never got caught. Thank God. He really wasn't the "public
display" kinda guy.
"I want you William. As soon as I saw you, I knew I
had to have you."
She jerked him faster, then, feeling that he was about
to come, reached down with her other hand to caress his balls.
Spike did the same while
the vision of Buffy smiled at him. He took some of the toilet paper he had left
by his cot and came in it, hiding his face in his pillow to keep quiet.
Spike calmed down and
shut his eyes tightly as realization sunk in.
*The warden, you BLOODY,
STUPID, IDIOTIC, WANKER. THE SODDIN WARDEN!! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR GODDAMN MIND?! Argh!*
Every night
The blond man tossed and
turned on the small, uncomfortable bed. As usual, he was restless and caught in
the nightmare. Always the same. His past was haunting him through his sleep and
he couldn't escape. Prisoner of the cold building during the day, prisoner of
his dreams at night. ,
His heart was racing, the blood pounding in his ears.
His palms were clammy. The hallway seemed to stretch out indefinitely in front
of him. The lights seemed dimmer than usual... his vision blurry.
He wanted to get there fast and get it over with.
Quick. The way you remove a band aid. One swift motion so it doesn't hurt too
much. And at the same time, the closer he got from the bedroom door, the more
he wanted to turn on his heel and run away. As far away from this place as he
could, and never come back to this God forsaken place.
The laughter and sounds of passion were getting
louder. He did not want to relive this. He did not chose to come back here. But
somehow, he did. Every time he relived it, he couldn't remember exactly what
happened next, but somehow he knew he had been there before and it wouldn't be
good.
He put one foot in front of the other, as if he was
caught in a play he knew by heart and had no choice but to play his part. To do
everything the way it was supposed to happen.
William wasn't an idiot. He might have been somewhat
naïve and foolish when it came to love, but he knew what was going on. He had
known for a long time, despite trying to repress the horrifying idea. He was
now one step away from facing it once and for all and he didn't want to.
He stopped in front of the bedroom door, the moaning
echoing in his head. So familiar. The sounds that used to make him so proud
because he was the one causing them. But not this time. This time, he was
standing outside the bedroom door and someone else was in there.
Taking a deep breath, William put a hand on the door.
It was already cracked open so all he had to do was push to make it open
slowly, with a fatality that fit the situation perfectly.
Everything was blurry. As if he was walking surrounded
by fog. He saw nothing. Wasn't aware of his surroundings. He was so deeply in
shock over the scene displayed in front of him that he couldn't even see Angel
standing by the door wearing nothing but a maniacal smile. The tall man was
only two feet away and yet, Spike couldn't even realize he was there. He
couldn't see Darla either, laying on the bed with her hand between Drusilla's
legs. Her high pitched laughter seemed to be coming from everywhere. His
subconscious knew they were all there, but all he could see was Drusilla. She
was so perfectly clear in his sight. Her white skin glowing on the equally
while satin sheets she was so found of. Her raven black hair a stunning
contrast on the white satin pillows.
He hadn't even acknowledged the deafening sharp bang.
Didn't know where it came from, or what it was. He could only stare. He stared
as the ruby red spot on the snow white sheets grew larger and larger until it
covered almost all of the bed. It was an eerie sight, really.
He looked down at the gun that had appeared in his
hand... He didn't know when, or how. The horror of all this took him by surprise.
As if suddenly waking up. He opened his hand and the gun dropped to the floor
in slow motion. Darla was still laughing.
Drusilla sat up, pointing a bloody finger at him.
"Poor sweet William. The moon and the stars played a
nasty trick on you didn't they? I hear them laughing. Naughty, they are. The
night has taken you and won't let you go play with the sun anymore because you
have filthy, filthy, hands. Soiled with my blood..."
Tears where streaming down his handsome face,
unbeknownst to him. "I didn't kill you! I didn't!"
Blood escaped her cherry red lips as she smiled, then started
laughing.
"I didn't... I didn't..."
"Oh for God's sake! Will
you wake up, you lunatic!"
Spike gasped, trying to
catch his breath. He looked around, trying to understand where he was and what
was happening. His eyes finally landed on the very unappealing face of Snyder.
The little man snorted
in disgust. "Some people would appreciate getting some sleep--if it fits into
your schedule, somewhere between the whimpering and the yelling."
"Shut your bloody gob,
rat face" Spike spat at his cellmate.
Snyder went back to his
own cot, mumbling under his breath. "Every night. EVERY single night... Freak."
Sleep a while
You must be tired...
But every night I burn
Every night I call your name
Every night I burn
Every night I fall again
Every night I burn
Scream the animal scream
Every night I burn
Dream the crow black dream
A little motivation
She had done it. She had
finally done it. Buffy had fallen asleep. Of course, she wasn't there anymore to
marvel on that fact, but if she had been able to comment, she would have said:
"Thank you God."
But her sleep was not
that different from her previous state. She was tossing and turning, every bit
as restless as she had been earlier when awake.
The young teenage girl was led down a corridor with
her hands in front of her, the handcuffs shining brightly in the harsh
artificial light of the neon. The police station was buzzing with activity
despite the ungodly hour.
**I guess criminals don't sleep** Buffy thought
somberly.
"Sit here." The female officer who was leading her
instructed. "Your mother is in there talking to the sergeant." The officer
knocked and walked in.
Buffy sprawled on the uncomfortable chair, trying her
best to look unimpressed and annoyed. To the casual observer, it probably
worked. But inside, she was a mess. It might have been her third time at the
police station, but she still found it nerve wrecking. She was scared shitless.
She really didn't feel all that tough at the moment.
The officer came back out and told Buffy she could go
inside.
Buffy walked in, dragging her feet and looking down.
Her blonde hair was falling in front of her face like a shield. She heard the
heavy sigh coming from her mother but didn't look up.
The man sitting on the other side of the desk asked
her to take a seat. She was well prepared to answer him as rudely as possible
and refuse to sit, but his voice was so soothing and firm that she did as
asked.
**Must be the British accent** she thought, still looking
at her combat boots like they held the answers to some deep existential
questions.
"Will you look at me Miss Summers? I'd like us to talk
like grown ups. So put down the façade please. I can see right through it
anyway so you're just wasting your energy trying to keep it up."
Buffy reluctantly looked up at the man talking to her.
For a second there, she found that she couldn't breath. Her eyes widened at the
sight of his handsome features. It was as if he didn't belong in that cold,
impersonal, environment. There was a calm strength rolling off of him in waves.
Passion in his blue eyes. She felt as if his gaze could see her soul and almost
giggled out loud as a funny image crossed her mind. The man was wearing nothing
but a white loincloth, sandals on his feet, a sword in his hand and wings
behind his back, like some kind of an archangel. A smile tugged at her lips and
she let out a derisive snort at the somewhat ridiculous thought that had popped
into her head.
"Something funny?"
**Get a grip girl** she scolded herself.
"No sir. Nothing."
Her mother finally opened her mouth. "Buffy, honey,
please listen to what Mr. Rayne has to say."
The young girl cast a quick guilty glance towards her
mother, then her eyes settled back on the sergeant.
"I'm sorry sir--look, I'm not gonna do it again, ok?
I'll just be on my way and I promise to be a good girl from now on. No more
fighting or anything. Cross my heart..."
"Not that easy this time Buffy."
"Oh--you mean... Oh God! I'm not going to a foster home,
am I? Or one of those places for delinquent teenagers, or, or..."
"No, you're going to jail." Sergeant Rayne gave her a
warm smile that didn't fit the seriousness of what he just said.
Buffy paled dramatically and gripped the armrests of
her chair until her knuckles turned white. "... What?! But, you can't! I'm 17.
Minors don't go to jail unless they've killed people and stuff, right? RIGHT?"
The handsome British man laughed goodheartedly. "Relax
Buffy, I didn't say we were putting you behind bars. But at the rate you're
going, that's most likely where you'll end up. I don't understand Buffy. You
look like a smart, strong, young woman with a lot of potential. What do you
rebel against?"
The blonde man leaned forward, his weight resting on
his elbows, obviously waiting for an answer.
Buffy looked away. "Dunno." She finally mumbled.
He merely raised an eyebrow.
She shifted on her chair, uncomfortable under his
scrutiny. "You know--stuff. Unfairness. The world in general. It all sucks."
"So, correct me if I'm wrong, but you don't like
society so you hit people on the back of the head with bar stools and beer
bottles?"
Buffy snorted, offended. "Hey, just the ones who
deserve it ok."
"But honey," Joyce started. "You used to be such a
good girl, with good grades, friends... What happened?"
"What happened?! I opened my eyes, that's what
happened! People are mean. I've seen stuff... So called friends kicking someone
who's already on the floor, hurting people who are too weak to defend
themselves, for popularity's sake. Well I'm done standing by and laughing with
them. That's what happened. That girl I sent to the hospital tonight... She
deserved it. She said something unthinkable to another human being and I wasn't
just gonna let it slip. So go ahead, send me to jail. I don't give a fuck."
"Buffy! Language!"
Sergeant Rayne ignored her mother, focusing all his
attention on the young girl sitting in the chair in front of him. "Your
intentions are good, but you're on the wrong track luv. Continue this way, and
you'll spend your life in prison. You have to focus this need for justice and
put it to good use. You're a good person, with strong beliefs , and there are
very few people like you. So don't waste it.
"Mr. Rayne had an idea honey." Joyce added. "He knows
someone at the LA county jail and he thought that maybe you could work there
part time for a little while. Just during the weekends..."
Buffy's eyes darted from her mom to the sergeant
fearfully. "What?.. No! I can't do that! I mean, I'm not--I couldn't--possibly..."
"Sure you can." The sergeant gave her a warm smile
that illuminated his handsome face. "You can do this. You are strong enough.
And who knows, maybe it will be a revelation for you. Maybe that's where you
need to be."
He looked straight into her eyes, blue clashing with
green, and for a moment, they were alone in the office.
"You need to believe in yourself, and believe that you
can do this. You believe in justice, don't you? What better place for you to be
then? And... maybe someone needs you in there. Maybe someone needs justice to be
done and you're the only one who can do it..."
The annoying
sound seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. Buffy just lay on her back,
eyes still closed, wondering sleepily what the hell was making that noise. She
growled when she finally realized what it was: the phone. Reaching out blindly,
she got a hold of the offending thing and answered.
"...What?"
"Rude much." Came the
perky voice of Cordelia through the receiver.
"Mghrhmmm"
"Sorry, I don't speak
cave Buffy. Care to translate?"
"What do you want?"
Cordelia let out an
audible offended breath. "I put my alarm clock three hours early to wish my
best friend good luck and that's what I get for my trouble?"
Buffy chuckled. "As if."
"Fine, fine. I had to
get up for a business meeting. I'm having breakfast with the owner of a new
store on Rodeo drive who's interested in my clothing line. But still, my
intentions were pure."
"Thanks Cor. And good
luck with your meeting."
"So," the other girl
asked, "any dreams about prison boy?"
"Sorry to disappoint,
but no." Buffy lied, biting her lower lip. "Johnny Depp saved me from a mob of
evil bunnies in Prague."
She wasn't going to tell
Cordelia how 'prison boy' took the place of the overweight, bald, officer who
sent her to work at L.A. county prison ten years ago in her dream. Things had
happened differently back then, for one thing, the guy hadn't been interested
in finding out why exactly she was rebelling--not that she would have told him
about Tara anyway--and wasn't sending her there so she could find a career. He
just wanted to scare the shit out of her. In the dream, Spike had been sitting
behind the desk and telling her to believe in herself and basically, to help
him. But except for that, everything had been the same.
"Evil bunnies, huh?"
"Maybe my subconscious
is trying to tell me something?"
"Yeah. That you're
deranged."
"Bitch."
"Loony."
"Wallmart designer."
"Ouch."
Buffy laughed. "Did I get
the last word on this one? That would be a first."
"I'll give you this one,
but don't get used to it. Gotta go hon, I just burned a red light and nearly
killed some old lady crossing the street. But good luck today."
"Thanks Cordy. I should
talk to you every morning, you put me in a good mood."
"That would be the
Cordelia Chase Harris curse: I try to be a bitch, and all I manage to do is put
a smile on peoples faces. Call me later."
"Will do."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Silence!"
The voice of the usually
calm and collected Rupert Giles echoed throughout the cafeteria, efficiently
getting the attention of the prisoners.
Buffy was holding her
hands behind her back to hide the tremors her nervousness was causing. She
might have worked with cons for ten years, but it was the first time she was
going to address them all at once and she couldn't help the uncertainty
crawling under her skin. She was standing with the rest of the prison staff who
had been assembled for the speech, and so far, no one had noticed her. Well,
that wasn't entirely true. She had spotted Spike almost right away--he was
sitting on the side alone with another con, a black guy--and he was looking
straight at her.
She realized that Giles
was still talking, and she had missed most of what he said.
"... and I hope that
unlike yesterday, you'll be on your best behavior. So here she is, your new
warden."
Buffy took a step
forward, trying to look determined, an 'I'm in charge' look on her face.
But she wasn't feeling it, and people can always sense that.
"Hello everyone, I'm... "
Her words were lost in a
sea of lewd comments, cheers and laughter. She waited for them to calm down but
it didn't seem like they would any time soon. Then, she cast a quick glance
towards Spike. He was still looking at her, smiling encouragingly, and she
automatically felt more confident.
Buffy took another
couple of steps, coming to stand near the first tables. Giles reached out to
stop her, obviously worried for her safety, but she ignored him.
"ENOUGH!" She yelled,
her voice surprisingly loud for such a tiny woman. It shocked everyone into
silence.
"As I was saying, my
name is Buffy Summers and I'm your new warden. I might be a woman, and I might
not look very intimidating, but I won't take shit from any of you. I have the
power to make your life miserable. As long as you remember this, we'll get
along just fine. Is that clear?"
She could see from the
corner of her eye that Spike's smile had grown wider.
Everything was going to
be just fine. The Spike in her dream was right: she could do this.