I lift my hand, letting him get a clear vision of it, then I splay my fingers, and I place it over my breast. Spike’s eyes widen, but I continue, making out that his reaction doesn’t affect me at all. I slide my fingers down my chest and over my belly, and then I slip them up my shirt. I find my own hardened nipple, and I pinch it. A whimper escapes my throat, and Spike begins thrusting harder. It’s affecting him, and that’s exactly what I want. I know how kinky Spike is, and I know how much he likes that bit of extra something to get him over the edge.

I move my other hand, sliding it up my thigh, and under my skirt. Spike growls loudly, and makes the girl in his grips scream as he tightens his grip on her breast. I’m aroused, I feel it the moment my fingers graze my panties. I spread my legs a little, and run my fingers up and down, before slipping them inside and finding my slick heat. I know Spike has a glimpse of my exposed flesh, not enough for a full view, but enough to let his imagination run wild.

I tilt my head back, exposing my long, lean neck, and I moan loudly as I begin to stroke my aching clit. Spike makes a hissing sound, and the slapping of his skin against Blondie gets louder and louder as he picks up his pace. I lift my head up, and meet his gaze. I can see he’s close, it’s written all over him. His face is tight, the veins in his neck are bulging, and his thrusting is becoming urgent. I know how much Spike likes to watch, and that’s why he’s so aroused. If I stop right now, he’ll struggle to find his pleasure.

And that’s exactly why I stop right as he’s about to come. His eyes widen, and he makes a pained wincing sound as I remove my fingers from my throbbing flesh, pop them into my mouth, and lick my arousal off. Then I spin, gripping a bottle, and flashing him a grin. I walk out of the room to the sounds of his loud, angry, cursing. Spike might think hurting me is the best way to push me out of his life, but what he didn’t add into his little plan, is that I’ve thought of every possible thing he can do, and I’ve made sure I have something to throw back at him. I say bring it, biker. I decided I’m going to fight, and when I fight, I don’t back down.

That’s three for Ciara, and none for Spike.

~*~*~*~*

PRESENT - CIARA

Having no money sucks. It really sucks. Five days in, and I’m living on the cheapest food, and my car is just about out of gas. In fact, it’s so close that I’m fairly sure I’ll only just make it home after my shift tonight, which I might add, is a crappy one. Jenny is moody, Joe is away and the bar is packed. I’ve been here for eight hours, and I’m far, far over it. My shift finished an hour ago, but the girl who was meant to take over is late. Seriously, how do some people hold jobs? I couldn’t afford to be late. Truly, an hour’s worth of pay can mean extra food, an extra few miles in my car - hell, maybe a treat once in a while.

“She’s here,” Jenny grumbles into my ear.

I turn and see Susie coming through the door. She’s hungover, I can see it a mile away. Too bad for her. I’ve been here all day and I need to go home, shower, and snuggle up with my cat and watch a tragic movie. I’m in one of those moods.

“Thank god,” I sigh, turning on my aching feet and heading out back.

I dress quickly, pulling on a pair of old shorts and a tank. I grip my purse, my keys and phone, then I spin on my heel and head back out. I wave to Jenny and Susie, but they don’t notice because Susie is getting her head chewed off by Jenny. Good; the girl needs to learn some better work ethics. I slip past the customers and out the front door. I find my car, slide in and start it up. The cooling kicks in right away, and I sit for a moment, just letting it wash over me. While I do this, I stare down at the little arrow that shows me how much gas is left. It’s gone below empty but my car is pretty good on gas, so I’m almost sure it will make it home without a problem.

I get driving, and am halfway home when the car begins to splutter. That’s fucking Murphy’s Law! My eyes widen and I curse loudly as it begins to slow down. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me? This is NOT happening right now. As she comes to a complete stop, I manage to just get her off the road. I get out, letting off a frustrated bellow. I kick the tire so hard I hurt my toe, badly. Hobbling, I grip my hair and yell loudly to the sky. God dammit. I’m ten miles from home, it’s dark, late and the chances of anyone coming past in the next few hours is slim at this time of the night. Dammit, fuck my stupid mistakes. If I didn’t trash the bar, I would have been paid and my car would have enough damn gas! Fuck.

I get back in, turning the key. She splutters, but doesn’t start. Tears well in my eyes, and my chest begins to ache. Why is this happening to me? God dammit. I had a good fucking life. I get out of the car again, kicking the door closed. I hobble into the trees angrily, hot tears running down my cheeks. There’s little to no cell phone service here, so I have to walk to try to get some. My toe is throbbing, and my heart hurts. When did my life go so wrong? I had it all worked out. I was dating, I was getting ready to go to school, I was finding my happiness...and then Chey died and everything spiraled out of control. I tilt my head up to the sky, and I scream.

“Why did you go and fucking die, Chey? Why? You left so much destruction behind. You left people broken. They blame me, you know? It’s my fault! I was the one who brought Spike home! They don’t smile anymore, he doesn’t smile anymore. Why did you have to go and fuck everything up? You always were so selfish! Everything had to go your way! I had a life, I was going to college, I was going to meet a nice man and be happy but then you went and died. Now everything is fucked up, everything is broken and here I am, on the side of the road, because I can’t afford gas. Damn you, Cheyenne, DAMN YOU!”