Outsider Observations
#1: Need
"Bloody Slayer," Spike spat viciously. "Look what you've reduced me to."
He nervously paced the alley behind the Doublemeat Palace, taking deep drags on his cigarette, watching the smoke curl around his bleached blonde head before it drifted away in the faint breeze.
It wasn't Buffy's fault that the vampire was drawn to her so powerfully. Maybe it wasn't really her per se, but the humanity that she represented. Eh, but there were plenty of humans in Sunnydale besides Buffy Summers. So what was it about this girl? What made Spike dream the dreams that he did; tender, loving moments with Buffy, moments in which she looked to him with warmth in her eyes and caressed his cheek with those hands, hands that could hurt and hands that could soothe. What made him miss her when days passed and he caught not a glimpse?
Oh, he had it bad for the Slayer. There was no getting around it. Spike had little experience with love, whether as a human or as a vampire. He and Drusilla, his sire, his lover, had been close. But often he felt more like her caretaker or her nursemaid. For a vampire, she could be surprisingly fragile. And before he was turned, meek William only looked upon women from afar.
So, were his feelings for Buffy love? How could Spike tell? He had no guidelines, no treatise he could follow. He simply let his feelings wash over him, and through him, intense, powerful and unrelenting things that they were.
Spike did know that his need to prowl the nighttime streets in search of her never let up. Foolish and neutered though he felt, the vampire sought her out anyway.
"Damn it," he cursed. "Just go inside you bleedin' idiot. She's not going to come looking for you."
Buffy had, in fact, looked for him a few times. But she was seeking something different, an escape, and physical stimulation to replace the deadness she felt inside. Spike knew that well enough, though the reality hurt. But he provided what the Slayer needed. He let her use him and his body. She pounded it and pummeled it, desperate to feel. It shamed her, and that hurt Spike too. But he never turned her away. His own physical needs were far too great. And each of those visits served to feed his fantasies even more.
Grinding the cigarette out with his boot, Spike strode purposefully from the alley and around to the front of the fast food restaurant. His black leather duster moved sinuously about his legs. The coat, one of his oldest possessions, calmed Spike. Tucking his hands deep into its pockets, he took a long, unnecessary breath, and approached the huge window.
There she was, behind the counter, wearing that ridiculous uniform, striped shirt and stupid hat, phony smile plastered across her beautiful face, the face that he adored. As soon as the customer had been served, her smile vanished, leaving strain and misery behind. Spike's chest tightened. He wished that he could really comfort her.
With a sigh, the vampire pushed the door open, cringing at the sound of the annoying little bell. Buffy spotted him and her face twisted into something different.
"Welcome to Doublemeat Palace." Her voice was dull and emotionless. "What can I get for you tonight?"
Spike glanced at the menu with his piercing blue eyes. "Whatever you recommend," he replied, smiling at her gently, hoping for a smile in return.
"Fine," she sighed heavily. "Doublemeat Medly; it's our most popular selection." She gave the order to the cooks and then turned her attention back to Spike. "My break is in half an hour. Take your burger and leave."
Spike paid, took the white bag and left, dropping the burger into the garbage on the way out. Back in the alley he waited again, tapping his foot impatiently and lighting another cigarette.