If Not Wisely
Chapter 1: The Vigil
Spoilers: Begins immediately post-Wrecked, becomes AU after that.
Rating: R for swearing and some sexual situations.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Feedback: Would be highly appreciated. This is my first attempt at fanfic, and I'd like to know how I'm doing. Constructive criticism is welcome.
Distribution: So far, just here. If anyone wants it, just let me know.
Summary: Buffy continues to struggle with her feelings for Spike, and the whole gang tries to help Willow with her abuse of magic.
Buffy Summers sat on her bed, knees pulled up to her chest, blindly staring at nothing. In her hands, she clutched a wooden cross, holding onto it for dear life. She had no idea how long she'd been sitting there, but her knees were starting to cramp from staying in one position for so long, and her back and neck felt like they were on fire. Sighing heavily, she stretched out her aching knees and flopped back onto the bed. She turned her head to look at the glowing red display of the clock that sat on her nightstand. 5:43 A.M. The sun would be up soon. He wasn't coming.
With a groan of frustration, she pushed herself off the bed and stalked angrily toward the window. Brushing aside the strands of garlic that hung there, she parted the curtains and looked out into the night. Nothing. She scanned the yard for any sign of movement and squinted her eyes to carefully examine the tree that he favored. Still nothing. He wasn't coming.
Clenching her fists in anger, Buffy noticed that she was still holding the stupid cross. The absurdity of it all suddenly hit her full force. She spun wildly and hurled the offending object at her bedroom wall. Wincing at the noise that it made upon impact, she held her breath for a moment and prayed that she hadn't woken anyone. The resounding silence that ensued assured Buffy that her little tantrum would go unnoticed. She realized that she was still holding her breath and let it out in a rush. Her shoulders slumped dejectedly, and she suddenly felt very weak. She made her way back to the bed and laid down on it fully dressed. Turning on her side and clutching her knees to her chest, she finally allowed all those nagging little thoughts--which she had valiantly been trying to keep at bay--invade her mind.
He wasn't coming. He really wasn't coming. God, she couldn't believe that he really wasn't going to show up. Buffy had thought he'd be there for sure. She had spent the majority of her little vigil imagining exactly what he would look like coming through her window. His patented evil smirk, that cocky little head tilt thing that he liked to do. She could picture the swagger in his step; hear the mocking in his voice. He'd laugh at the garlic that she had strung about the room. That the best you can do, Slayer, he'd say. He'd rush at her and knock the cross from her hands. He'd grab her roughly and put his face just inches from hers and he'd--
"No!" She'd said the word out loud without even realizing it. The sound of her own voice stunned her for a moment, and she took a deep, ragged breath. No, she couldn't let herself start thinking these thoughts. He hadn't come, and she was glad. She hadn't wanted him to. That's what the cross and all the garlic was for, to keep him away. In fact, if she never set eyes on him again, that would be fine with her. Buffy decided that the annoying vampire must have finally come to his senses and realized when enough was enough. Well fine! It was about time. No more chasing after her, pleading with her to talk about "things." No more begging for "a crumb." No more following her around making mooneyes. That was what she wanted. Wasn't it?
Involuntarily, a small sob escaped her. She couldn't lie to herself anymore. Deep down, she had known that he would not come to her that night. Truth be told, he probably wouldn't come to her ever again. What was it he'd said to her? I'm done being your whipping boy. I've got my rocks back. Yep, he had them back all right. No more of the sad little puppy dog routine for him. No more begging for Slayer scraps. Nope, if she wanted to see him again, she'd have to go to him. Not that she would. She would never go to him. Giving a small, bitter laugh Buffy allowed herself to admit that this whole garlic and cross show really hadn't been about keeping him out at all. It had been more about trying to prove that she didn't want him there, that she didn't need him there.
Buffy opened her eyes and looked once more at the ridiculous amount of garlic festooning her bedroom. A sudden wave of embarrassment washed over her. Garlic? Crosses? What the hell was she doing? She was the goddamn Slayer! Slayers didn't fight with garlic and crosses. Slayers fought with stakes and crossbows. They didn't sit up all night clutching a cross with dozens of bulbs of garlic hanging about. These were the weak defenses of a scared and inexperienced child, not the tools of a seasoned Slayer with over five years of experience under her belt. God, is this what she had been reduced to? Spike would laugh his ass off if he ever saw her this way. She was beyond pathetic.
Once again, Buffy leaped off the bed and rushed to the window. She began angrily ripping the strands of garlic from the window. She paused momentarily to note the brilliant pinks and purples coloring the horizon. The sun was definitely on it's way. There would be no visits from any vamps tonight. With a small curse, she turned and began removing the rest of the embarrassing garlic. She gave a little snort and thought to herself, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, folks. Fighting off the Big Bad with a fucking seasoning! Yes, even she had to admit that things did not look good if she had started stooping to garlic. Buffy threw all of the garlic into her weapons chest, snorting again when she saw all of the stakes, axes and crossbows that lay within. She walked over and picked up the cross from where it had fallen and tossed it into the truck as well.
Heaving a large sigh, Buffy pulled her black turtleneck over her head and threw in on the floor. Her boots and jeans soon followed. Stepping carefully over the pile, she pulled the covers back and got into bed. She curled up into a tight ball and tried to shut off her thoughts. She tired not to think off all the terrible things that she had done, had allowed to be done to her. She tried not to think about how much she had enjoyed it, how the relief had washed over her in waves, and she had finally felt free. Free from the worried glances and pleading smiles of her friends. Free from the knowledge that Giles was a continent away and would no longer be there for her to lean on. Free from the death and destruction that she dealt with on a daily basis. Free from her memories of heaven and the torment of being pulled out only to find herself back in this hell. She couldn't hold it back any longer. The buildup became too much, and the damn broke. The tears began to flow freely,
and the small slayer sobbed alone in her bed.
Across town, inside his posh lower level bedroom, a vampire rolled over in his sleep, and a small smile of contentment slowly spread over his face.
Chapter 1: The Vigil
Spoilers: Begins immediately post-Wrecked, becomes AU after that.
Rating: R for swearing and some sexual situations.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Feedback: Would be highly appreciated. This is my first attempt at fanfic, and I'd like to know how I'm doing. Constructive criticism is welcome.
Distribution: So far, just here. If anyone wants it, just let me know.
Summary: Buffy continues to struggle with her feelings for Spike, and the whole gang tries to help Willow with her abuse of magic.
Buffy Summers sat on her bed, knees pulled up to her chest, blindly staring at nothing. In her hands, she clutched a wooden cross, holding onto it for dear life. She had no idea how long she'd been sitting there, but her knees were starting to cramp from staying in one position for so long, and her back and neck felt like they were on fire. Sighing heavily, she stretched out her aching knees and flopped back onto the bed. She turned her head to look at the glowing red display of the clock that sat on her nightstand. 5:43 A.M. The sun would be up soon. He wasn't coming.
With a groan of frustration, she pushed herself off the bed and stalked angrily toward the window. Brushing aside the strands of garlic that hung there, she parted the curtains and looked out into the night. Nothing. She scanned the yard for any sign of movement and squinted her eyes to carefully examine the tree that he favored. Still nothing. He wasn't coming.
Clenching her fists in anger, Buffy noticed that she was still holding the stupid cross. The absurdity of it all suddenly hit her full force. She spun wildly and hurled the offending object at her bedroom wall. Wincing at the noise that it made upon impact, she held her breath for a moment and prayed that she hadn't woken anyone. The resounding silence that ensued assured Buffy that her little tantrum would go unnoticed. She realized that she was still holding her breath and let it out in a rush. Her shoulders slumped dejectedly, and she suddenly felt very weak. She made her way back to the bed and laid down on it fully dressed. Turning on her side and clutching her knees to her chest, she finally allowed all those nagging little thoughts--which she had valiantly been trying to keep at bay--invade her mind.
He wasn't coming. He really wasn't coming. God, she couldn't believe that he really wasn't going to show up. Buffy had thought he'd be there for sure. She had spent the majority of her little vigil imagining exactly what he would look like coming through her window. His patented evil smirk, that cocky little head tilt thing that he liked to do. She could picture the swagger in his step; hear the mocking in his voice. He'd laugh at the garlic that she had strung about the room. That the best you can do, Slayer, he'd say. He'd rush at her and knock the cross from her hands. He'd grab her roughly and put his face just inches from hers and he'd--
"No!" She'd said the word out loud without even realizing it. The sound of her own voice stunned her for a moment, and she took a deep, ragged breath. No, she couldn't let herself start thinking these thoughts. He hadn't come, and she was glad. She hadn't wanted him to. That's what the cross and all the garlic was for, to keep him away. In fact, if she never set eyes on him again, that would be fine with her. Buffy decided that the annoying vampire must have finally come to his senses and realized when enough was enough. Well fine! It was about time. No more chasing after her, pleading with her to talk about "things." No more begging for "a crumb." No more following her around making mooneyes. That was what she wanted. Wasn't it?
Involuntarily, a small sob escaped her. She couldn't lie to herself anymore. Deep down, she had known that he would not come to her that night. Truth be told, he probably wouldn't come to her ever again. What was it he'd said to her? I'm done being your whipping boy. I've got my rocks back. Yep, he had them back all right. No more of the sad little puppy dog routine for him. No more begging for Slayer scraps. Nope, if she wanted to see him again, she'd have to go to him. Not that she would. She would never go to him. Giving a small, bitter laugh Buffy allowed herself to admit that this whole garlic and cross show really hadn't been about keeping him out at all. It had been more about trying to prove that she didn't want him there, that she didn't need him there.
Buffy opened her eyes and looked once more at the ridiculous amount of garlic festooning her bedroom. A sudden wave of embarrassment washed over her. Garlic? Crosses? What the hell was she doing? She was the goddamn Slayer! Slayers didn't fight with garlic and crosses. Slayers fought with stakes and crossbows. They didn't sit up all night clutching a cross with dozens of bulbs of garlic hanging about. These were the weak defenses of a scared and inexperienced child, not the tools of a seasoned Slayer with over five years of experience under her belt. God, is this what she had been reduced to? Spike would laugh his ass off if he ever saw her this way. She was beyond pathetic.
Once again, Buffy leaped off the bed and rushed to the window. She began angrily ripping the strands of garlic from the window. She paused momentarily to note the brilliant pinks and purples coloring the horizon. The sun was definitely on it's way. There would be no visits from any vamps tonight. With a small curse, she turned and began removing the rest of the embarrassing garlic. She gave a little snort and thought to herself, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, folks. Fighting off the Big Bad with a fucking seasoning! Yes, even she had to admit that things did not look good if she had started stooping to garlic. Buffy threw all of the garlic into her weapons chest, snorting again when she saw all of the stakes, axes and crossbows that lay within. She walked over and picked up the cross from where it had fallen and tossed it into the truck as well.
Heaving a large sigh, Buffy pulled her black turtleneck over her head and threw in on the floor. Her boots and jeans soon followed. Stepping carefully over the pile, she pulled the covers back and got into bed. She curled up into a tight ball and tried to shut off her thoughts. She tired not to think off all the terrible things that she had done, had allowed to be done to her. She tried not to think about how much she had enjoyed it, how the relief had washed over her in waves, and she had finally felt free. Free from the worried glances and pleading smiles of her friends. Free from the knowledge that Giles was a continent away and would no longer be there for her to lean on. Free from the death and destruction that she dealt with on a daily basis. Free from her memories of heaven and the torment of being pulled out only to find herself back in this hell. She couldn't hold it back any longer. The buildup became too much, and the damn broke. The tears began to flow freely,
and the small slayer sobbed alone in her bed.
Across town, inside his posh lower level bedroom, a vampire rolled over in his sleep, and a small smile of contentment slowly spread over his face.