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Tiana
Reviews: Yes and please and thank you.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the rights to Spike, Buffy or any other BTVS characters. But if anyone’s offering, I’ll take Spike.
Distribution: Just ask at tianabelle@hotmail.com
Summary: Set in the middle of Season 6. Spike's struggle to get a soul and Buffy's struggle to love him...with or without it...
My heart is pounding as I realize what I just did. Talk about revealing yourself. I was screaming Spike at the top of my lungs. It’s not like he wouldn’t notice. I’m starting to regain feeling in my legs now and becoming aware of Spike’s location. After I regained my stillness, he moved up a little and his blond head is lying below my breasts, looking off into the darkness. I swear I feel moisture on my stomach. Is he crying? No...he couldn’t be. I’ve never seen Spike cry in my life. I’ve seen him come close, but never let the floodgates open. I wonder if he cried when I died? I never thought to ask. Too wrapped up in my own problems with the clawing my way out of the grave, ripped from Heaven and so on. But right now I am sure of it. He’s shaking ever so slightly. I feel this chasm open in my chest. _I’ve_ caused this? It’s my fault? I still feel all wiggly and satisfied and he’s drowning. It can‘t go like this.
"Spike?" No response. "Spike...please."
I can’t tell if he didn’t hear me the first time or just was trying to compose himself. Finally, a muffled voice. "Yeah?"
"Kiss me."
I forget how fast he can move. He saves his vampiric skills for fights most of the time. Before I can blink, his mouth is on mine. I taste salt on his lips and my fears are confirmed. I grasp his hair in my hands to keep him there. I kiss him soundly, roughly, gently, savagely, tenderly, trying to erase the memory of those gentle sobs from this supposedly evil thing. His tears are drying as I feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against me. I release my clutch on him ever so slightly, pulling our lips apart so I can meet his eyes. They are nearly black and until that moment I had no idea how much he is controlling himself. He wants me so badly, but he is waiting for my approval.
"Spike, be in me. Be in me now."
Again, with the lightning fast reflexes, I am stretched fully by his thrust and one of those moans rolls off my tongue and right into his mouth as he kisses me again. He does not move for what seems like years. It’s as if the very act of being inside me, with me, is what he craved all along. His welcome into my being is like a climax. I think he puts me on too high a pedestal, I fear the height from which I can fall. God, it never occurred to me that this was something I feared. I fear disappointing Spike?! I’ve always been so derisive of him, made him feel so unworthy. But in some ways, it is the way he makes me feel so worthy that scares me. I could disappoint him and this love that burns would burn itself right out. And I must admit....whoa.
He’s started to move and it is rocking my world. I’m so wet and swollen from his previous actions and my nerve endings are still on fire. It burns and thrills all at once. His slow, methodical thrusts, almost all the way out and then back in suddenly. I feel my body jerk each time on impact, as if he is trying to plant his lust, his passion, his love so deep inside me it can’t get out. Hide it away so the world can’t kill it with questions.
I wrap my legs around his back as high as I can, deepening his access to my very core. I unconsciously closed my eyes when he started to thrust, trying to lock the sensation in by eliminating other distractions. But then I realize there is one 'distraction' I don’t want to miss. Right as Spike is going to thrust back into me, I open my eyes and find his eyes locked on mine.
I feel a hitch in his movement, almost surprise. He is used to watching my face during sex while I look away or close my eyes, not getting an invitation into my feelings through my eyes. His eyebrows knit together briefly as he looks at me. I am confusing him endlessly, something I seem to excel at. Maybe it’s because I am so good at confusing myself. His eyes are so tender, I caught him unaware and saw the raw emotion there. I may have been wrong before about his not being able to love. I just don’t know. I do know that I am starting to have trouble thinking straight. His rhythm is accelerating. My eyes are urging him on and I start to moan and step up my breathing. I reach back with both hands to grab onto the headboard.
I hear a slow, low sound from his mouth. Finally, after all this silence. I hold my breath to hear him and realize it is my name. Not slayer, not luv, not pet...Buffy. He murmurs my name between breaths, like a chant, like a spell. Over and over again. He’s driving me around the bend, over the edge with my own name.
Spike is getting louder and louder. As he comes closer and closer to climax, I realize something is changing. His voice is becoming more ragged and those eyes I am locked into are swimming in front of me. I think he is starting to cry again, but I then feel the strange sensation of moisture dripping out the sides of my eyes, running down into my hair.
It’s me. I’m weeping.
Spike’s eyes re-focus on me sharply and I can see he is afraid he’s hurting me. I also see that he will stop immediately if so. His eyes question me and his mouth opens slightly as he breaks the litany of my name. I shake my head and smile weakly at him. I’ve lost my voice suddenly, and so I simply mouth to him "Keep going."
He crosses the inches between us to kiss my left temple and then my right. Tasting my tears. He thrusts with renewed vigor and every entrance forces a cry from my lips. I am offering my own voice to the heavens to mix with his. His voice, which has roughened like sandpaper. Just as I feel the moment building to its point, Spike reaches down between us and presses on my clit. The heavens explode above me and I cry out as he roars his arrival. I feel the cool sensation of him coming inside me and I’m sure there is steam coming off us from the chemical reaction. I’m mewling like a kitten as he collapses slowly on top of me, his body losing all coordination in its pleasure. I swear I hear sizzling as his chilled skin kisses against mine, cooling the length of me just as I was sure to combust.
It was never like this before. Thoughts are swimming in my head as I stumble towards unconsciousness. It was feral and wild and it made me pant like an animal, but it never made me cry. His love burned into me with such power that it pressed tears from my eyes. Those eyes that have now slipped closed. He loves me. All the times he said it before and I never once believed it. Never once allowed myself to be loved. I lazily rub his back, not even sure if he is still with me. He may have blacked out already. His unnecessary breathing has stilled - a sure sign he is sleeping. I kiss his cheekbone, lightly lick his earlobe. Whisper with my last act of consciousness: "I love you too..." I can tell him again in the morning...
* * * * *
Spike’s bed, pre-dawn
I roll to one side and my arm reaches out for him. And reaches...all I feel is something sharp-edged...paper? I feel my heart skip and catch in my throat. I’m afraid to open my eyes as the whole evening rushes back over me. The heartbreaking things I said to him, the way he looked at me when he told me was leaving, our mutual worship of each other’s bodies, the mind-shattering climaxes, slipping off to sleep with love in my heart and my love resting on my chest. I’m sick as his words run through my head at breakneck pace. *packing it in....love you like this anymore...don’t know where I’m going ..don’t know when I’ll be back...killing me...swore to myself I would never hurt you...*
I am suddenly nauseous. I was so wrong about him. So wrong. I know with stomach-twisting certainty that he is gone. When I open my eyes it will be true. I fight it. My fingers are clutching the paper I find. It is firm...an envelope. I sit up in the bed and confirm what I already knew. Looking around, I see he is not here. I don’t even have to call his name. I feel his absence. I look down at the envelope in my hand and realize I’ve never seen Spike’s handwriting. It’s beautiful. I’m sure he thought that would be very inappropriate - that the Big Bad would have perfect penmanship. I laugh in spite of myself, hearing him deny it in my head. The laugh is hollow though. It says "Buffy" across it in dark black ink. I flip the envelope over and study the back. It is sealed with a red wax seal...a W in the middle. I am struck by this. He kept this stamp from his days as William? Why am I learning all these things about him after his disappearance?
This time the laugh is cynical and sharp. The voice in my head has become much less friendly. Because, Buffy, you didn’t want to learn those things beforehand. They would have made him seem human to you. He was easier to fight off as long as you kept him evil, a demon.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a red candle on the bedside table, partially melted and lying on its side. It strikes me that he wrote this letter while I was sleeping. Right here next to me. My hand goes to my forehead as I am suddenly convinced beyond a doubt he kissed me goodbye there. I see him leaving the letter and pressing those soft lips to my brow, though I was sound asleep when it happened. I have to know what the letter contains, but I’m so afraid I’m shivering. I take a deep breath, shuddering a bit, and slide my fingers under the flap of the envelope.
My hands are trembling as I break the seal on the letter. I gingerly pull the sheets of parchment paper out. I lay the envelope aside on the pillow where I found it and unfold the pages in my hands.
Buffy,
I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye, luv. At the same time, I couldn’t bear waking you. I was afraid one look into your eyes and I would lose my nerve. It kills me to walk out the door with your heavenly body tangled in my sheets, your golden hair spread on my pillow. It’s like I dreamed it. But as you told me, you don’t love me. You can’t love me. You can’t love THIS me. I know you have affection for me. I saw it in your eyes last night, Slayer. For a brief shining moment I thought it was love. But I cannot fool myself. Not anymore.
Indulge me, pet. My mind has wandered into the past while I write, sitting inches from you, listening to your gentle breaths. Let me tell you a few of the things I’ve never had the nerve to say.
I think I loved you from the day I met you. That night I saw you dance. No, not in the Bronze, out in the alley against that vamp. Didn‘t even need music. Kill you, yeah, I wanted to kill you then. Didn’t mean I didn’t like you. Lucky your mum showed up with that ax the first time I got a chance at your soft throat.
Dru knew it. I fought it. I never told you why she finally left me. She could smell the humanity on me. I loved a human, whether I knew it or not. She said the Slayer was all around me, covering me. Dru may be a complete loon, but she always had the sight. Rather than run to the bloody ends of the Earth to burn the humanity out of me, I went straight back to the scene of the crime. Sunnydale.
You know a lot of the rest, pet. I won’t bore you with history lessons. When I first realized I loved you, I fought it with every evil ounce of my body. Love the Slayer? Bloody hell. Waking to the love I felt for you was difficult to say the least. You started to trust me that year, though I didn’t know why. I tried to earn that trust, but still never expected it. But that’s you. You’re special. And when I let you down in the end... well, that was the lowest point of my existence. If I could have died over and over just to keep you from dying, I would have. I would have greeted the sunrise every day for a century just to have your light stay in this world. I cried and cried. Don’t tell anyone, though they did see me break down when we saw your body. With every bone in my body broken from the fall, I cried for you, luv. I cried for me. Like I told you, I saved you every night after that. In my head. I was faster, more clever, stronger, and in the end you were there. Alive and in my arms.
Little did I know or even think that one day you would truly be in my arms. You know the Scoobies never told me ‘bout the plan to bring you back, right? Saved their necks every other night for that whole summer and they didn’t trust me one bit. All of ‘em knew that I would rather see you stay dead than come back wrong. Or suffer again. Probably the first selfless feeling I ever had. But you came back. My heart burned that night. Now that you were back, you would know I was a failure. And yet, you never reproached me. Never told me I should have been faster, more clever or stronger. How could I not love you?
Believe it or not, I want love. Not just shagging and fighting and your grudging participation in both of them. I just...well, you deserve to be with a man you can love. You deserve better. I’ve told you before, not very well, but I have tried. You are better than the dark life I tried to drag you down into. I thought if I could just contain, maybe dim the blazing light that is your soul, you wouldn’t miss mine. One of many of my bloody brilliant plans that didn’t work. What right did I have to try and snuff that light? My bleedin’ right as a creature of darkness? I thank my stars every night that I was a fool. A fool to think your light could be swallowed up by my darkness. I was all wrong in my thinking. Better that I should step out of the dark. But how?
No one has made me feel like a man in over 100 years...hell, not ever. I was a bloody ponce in life. But you, you make me feel it. When I’ve got your golden skin against mine, I want to live. I haven’t wanted to live...well, again, not ever. I thought I was so bloody happy as a dead thing for a century. I killed, I drank, I rampaged over half the world. And it was all rot. Bloody rot. Why would you love this thing? A killer. It’s what I am. Or was... Maybe I can be more than what I am, though. It is this belief that takes me out of your warm embrace on this cold morning, pet. I’m leaving to become more. To become something...someone you can love. Someone you deserve. So, I’ll admit I shaded the truth to you earlier.
I will be back, Buffy.
Take care of yourself and the Bit.
My love,
Spike
The looping script blurs in front of my eyes as the sobs begin to wrack my entire body. He left me. Just when I woke to the love I felt for him. I throw myself back into his pillow, clutching the letter tightly, and raging against it all with the strength of a Slayer. The fact that he will return is cold comfort as I pour out my anguish into his pillow. His scent still lingers there and it makes me angry. It teases me with his distance. I sit up and throw the pillow across the room and hear glass breaking. I curl up in the bed, trying to find warmth where there suddenly is none.
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