Glory couldn’t believe it. The concept was beyond her comprehension. Why on earth would a vampire, a stupid, bleach blond vampire, allow himself to be tortured like this on behalf of none other than a vampire slayer? It was so annoying! No, it was more than that! It was something else. Something other than the normal was bugging her here. It was driving her insane!

Glory strutted over to the vampire that was chained to her ceiling and simply looked at him.

“What are you starin’ at?” He said defiantly. She didn’t get that. Why was he not scared? Why was he not telling her what he knew? Why was he being so defiant? She wasn’t used to that. She was a God! If humans, vampires and demons had any respect, they’d all be worshipping her and she wouldn’t have to go through this whole fiasco just to get her key in the first place. It was her key. The stupid mousy slayer had no buisnes taking it from her in the first place.

Glory tilted her head. “Well, in case you didn’t notice, I was staring at you.” Spike lolled his head to the side in obvious physical and emotional exhaustion.

“Why?” Glory blinked. That was actually a good question. Why was she starting at him? She’d never taken the time to stare like that at anyone, ever. And she’d existed for countless eons. Glory shook her head with inner confusion. Time for a subject change!

“You know, I really don’t get it. Why would a vampire like you, and it’s not even like you have a soul or anything, be so loyal and head over heels for the stupid slayer?”

Spike didn’t respond, instead just lowered his eyes and twitched his lips. That annoyed Glory.

“Do you think she gives half a rats ass about you?” Spike still didn’t respond. “Sweetie baby, no ones coming to save you. No one cares. Especially not your precious slayer.” Spike raised his eyes for a moment to glare at her, then quickly lowered them. Without thinking she immediately raised her palm to strike him across the cheek. That bothered her, for some reason. It gave her a weird feeling. She didn’t like it at all.

“You’re nothing!” Glory suddenly screamed out. “None of your own kind like you because you can’t, and won’t kill like you are supposed to. The Slayer hates you. Her friends all hate you. No one cares. You’re completely useless!”

“If I’m so useless, why haven’t you killed me yet? Why am I still here?” Glory tilted her head, once again confused. She had no idea why she still kept this thing alive.

“Are you hungry?”

“Haven’t eaten in days. What do you think?”

“I could fix you a nice slayer-snack!” She clapped her hands at the very thought. The irony of it all, it made her feel better!

“Why bother?” Spike said somberly. Glory raised an eyebrow.

“Is that a sign of no more slayer-lust?” She pinched his cheek and smiled. “I’m so proud of you!” Suddenly strange feeling came over Glory. It was more of an inner-excitement, a tickling that she’d never in her whole existence felt before. It was like a strange alien force that took over her body and swept it in directions she’d never have even thought about taking it before.

As if she were in a trance, Glory leaned forward until her lips nearly touched Spike’s. “Forget that anorexic bitch of a slayer. She’s nothing. She’ll never be anything. And you’ll never have her.” At that, Spike raises his eyes defiantly up to hers. Her arm with a life of it’s own, wrapped around him behind his chest. “I can show you things that she would never be able to show you.” Spike kept his gaze on hers, even and determined.

“Not interested.” He nearly spat in her face. She pulled back immediately and smacked him hard in the jaw, sending his head flying to the side, and droplets of blood spilling out of his lip. “Is that what you thought you could show me, that Buffy couldn’t? Because sorry Blondie, but the Slayer does that to me all the time.”

Glory leapt forward again, her hand going up his shirt and across his chest. She closed her eyes, bringing her head to his neck and letting her tongue graze his skin. “I’ll bet she doesn’t do this to you.”

“This just in, I don’t screw Hellgods. I see you and all I can think of is Loraina Bobbit, the lady who cut off her husband’s shlonge.” She raises her hand to smack him again, but something inside of her hesitates. She raises her hand to his face, but instead of smacking him she lets her index finger trace the gentle curve of his cheekbone.

Spike moved his head away from it like her touch was poison and Glory immediately lowered her hand. Her eyes narrowed and her expression became dark. No body disrespected or rejected her, in any way, shape or form. It was blaspheme.

“I’m a God.” Glory stated, plainly and simply. Spike raises his head again and shot his patronizing gaze right into the depths of her unstable mind.

“Right you are. A Hellgod. Who’s trying to screw a vampire who loves the Slayer, who’s hiding your key.”

Glory’s eyes blazed with anger and rage, and she leapt forward blindly pummeling his face. She let her hand move back and forth like a rhythmic dance, hitting the sides of his face with a sickening gracefulness. By the time she lowered her hand, Spike’s face was covered with blood.

Despite the incredible pain he must have felt, Spike refused to lower his eyes. Glory took in a sharp breath, her intricate eyes now following a droplet of blood that grazed over Spike’s gentle cheekbone, sloping chin, and dangled off the it’s end about to fall independently through the air and soak a spot in the carpet below. She didn’t want blood on the carpet. Gently, she raised a finger to catch the blood droplet from his chin, and either from exhaustion or gratitude, Spike didn’t move his head away this time.

Glory tilted her head, staring at the blood now on her finger. Her eyes, as if attached to a puppet-master by strings, raised again to examine his face. Her jaw parted his crimson lips, and she said something she had never said before. “I’m, I’m sorry.”

Struggling through his newly forming bruises, Spike managed to look down at her. “Sorry. Yeah, I bet you’re real sorry.”

Glory picked up a handkerchief that lay on the table, and gently brought it up to Spike’s face, wiping of the access blood. “Why do you all the sudden care anyway?” Spike asked her bitterly.

“Care. I don’t care. I just, don’t want blood on my carpet.” She responded unconvincingly.

“Yeah. Your carpet. That’s all you care about isn’t it.”

“No. I want my key. I want to go home.”

“If I could send you home, out of our world and away from Buffy, I’d do it.” Glory looked up at Spike with wide eyes, the eyes of a child who was starving for a kind, reassuring word in a darkened room.

“You would?”

“For Buffy.” He emphasized. “I’d do it for her.” Glory took a jerking step back, like someone had just pricked her with a pin.

“Your Mousy. Tell me Precious, why would you do all this for her, when she’s proving right now, that she won’t do it for you?”

“Because, I love her.” He responded. Four words that seemed to eat into Glory’s gut. Love. It made her sick! Especially between a vampire and a slayer. How she wanted to backhand him, to show him the true meaning of a Hellgod. But something inside her hesitated. Something prevented her from hitting him. Maybe it was the blood smeared on his face, she didn’t care much for blood, not in a nice home. Or maybe it was the look in his eyes. Or maybe it was the lack of difficulty. She could beat up a vampire with her pinky even without him being chained. Where’s the fun if there’s no chance of even a challenge?

“What’s the matter, Glory? All tapped-out?” Spike taunted. She turned her slow, fiery gaze onto him.

“I don’t know, SPIKE.” Saying his name pointedly. Tossing her hair behind her shoulders, she sauntered back over to him and raises her face up to his. “Maybe I’m just, restless. Do you think?” She said, letting her eyelids close and her lips gently graze his chin. She’d never done anything like this before, never had any desire to. She didn’t want to admit she could have, feelings, like mortals did. She didn’t want anything to do with it. So she decided to let go. She’d let her body do whatever it wanted, and bury herself deep within her mind. When her body was done she’d come back out, pick up the pieces and move on, like it never happened.

Glory could hear Spike sigh, and her lips slowly moved up to greet his. She’d never felt anything like it, soft, damp, and- Suddenly Spike shoved her away and she lost her footing, falling straight on her bum.

Glory shook her head, reality rushing back to her like a title wave of shame. What was she doing? This wasn’t her! Ugh, how disgusting! Look what this mortal realm was doing to her! If anyone back home heard about this, she’d never win back her rightful position as a God!

Spike wryly laughed, and Glory did one more thing she’d never done before in her eons of existence. Glory opened up her mouth, and let out a piercing, shattering scream. She screamed for everything she had lost. She screamed for everything that she wanted back so badly. She screamed for being alone in a cold world that wanted her dead. But most of all, she screamed for the fact that simply because she was what she was, love was destined to never come her way.

The End