I do not own the rights to anything relating to the Buffyverse. That honor goes to one godlike man known as Joss Whedon. :)
Song lyrics from Garth Brooks' That Summer (Yeah I like country. :p ) I don't own either.
Hello everyone! Thank you ever so much for taking time to read my little fic. It's my first Buffy one, although I have several other fics under my belt. Buffy is, with out a doubt, my most favorite TV show ever. I really should feel bad for not posting a fic for this section earlier.
However, better late than never, right? This short little fic has been rattling around in my head for quite some time now. Every time I listen to this song by Garth Brooks I would think about it. It's so fitting to the relationship the two of them had during the 6th season. Well, at least it is if you ignore everything but the refrain. :) Anyways, that was my inspiration and this is the result. It should stand alone as a one shot, but who knows? I will def be writing more Buffy fics in the future, but for now I hope you enjoy this one. If you could be so kind, please review and tell me what you think. Enjoy!
Night After Night
It always started the same way. I'd be at home in my crypt, watching a taped episode of Passions or just flipping through the channels. Sometimes a warmed up cup of pig's blood would be resting at my elbow or maybe I'd be halfway through a cig. In any case I would be at home, minding my own business, when she would come knocking.
Not that Buffy ever bothered to knock.
Usually a well placed kick took care of that pesky door with its newfangled doorknob that she never learned how to use. Good thing her kept boy was a carpenter, otherwise I would have sent a rather hefty bill to the Watcher's Council one day. "Spike," she would say with that tone of voice that held so many conflicting emotions; hate, desperation, disgust, fear, frustration, longing. Yeah, my bird was one messed up gal.
"Slayer," I'd say congenially enough, not bothering to rise from my seat. "Did you come over for a bit of telly then? I'm afraid I ain't got much of the pig's blood left, but there might be a spot of cow if you don't mind the day old variety." She would look at me with anger in her eyes, never did appreciate my jokes. Didn't make much sense since I'd seen her laugh plenty of times at Xander's idiocies.
"You're sick, you know that Spike?" It always would start with an insult. Nothing too bad you realize, she'd want to save a little venom for afterwards you know? Of course, there was always the times she would just barge in, begin the pummeling, and ask questions later. I almost preferred those times.
"Sorry pet, just tryin to be hospitable like. You could just say no thanks." How I loved it when her eyes would begin to narrow when she was mad. She would get the tiniest little lines between her eyes, lines that only a vampire would probably be able to see I'm sure. But it changed her in my eyes. Made her softer, reminded me that she was mortal. Or at least she should be. With all the times she's been dead who knows what she was now? Worse than the Energizer Bunny she is.
"Enough Spike, I didn't come here for your lame jokes and bad Suzy Homemaker skills." Ah yes, and here's where it would come in; her phony excuse to see me, some made up emergency or threat that she could use later to make herself feel better. But I knew why she really came.
She had the need to feel the thunder,
To chase the lightning from the sky.
"A couple went missing around here last night, you know anything about it?" Oh yeah Slayer. Sure. The neutered puppy kidnapped a pair of teenagers. Even if I had done it, what would I do? Breathe on them heavily?
Usually by this point I would give up on my relaxing time in front of the telly and stand up to face her fully. "Look pet, we both know that's not why you came. So maybe we could get down to the snogging so I can see what the devil Timmy's been getting into this week?"
Sometimes she would get so pissed off at me for saying something like that that she would leave. Most of the time I wasn't so blunt, because I was weak and wanted it just as much as she did. Even if it was wrong. Even if it twisted every feeling I had for her. I usually only resorted to such words on nights were she had pushed me too far. Just to see what would happen. Would she leave this time? Or would she stay, knowing I'd called her bluff and knew exactly what she was doing?
I'd get my answer relatively quickly, even if it seemed like an eternity, waiting there, wondering if tonight I'd get that brief taste of heaven or if I'd be left alone, cursing my own stupid mouth. Sometimes I think she'd purposely drag the time out, just to torment me. It was another of her little games. We played so many that I often forgot the rules or how we determined the winner.
Truth be told though there wasn't ever really a winner. We'd fight, we'd indulge in a quickie or two, and then she'd leave me. Other than that brief moment of ultimate satisfaction, I don't think either one of us even enjoyed our little romps. But we both played our parts, night after night, just to reach that one shinning moment of completion. Where she could pretend that there was something in this life that could make her feel and I could pretend that that thing was me.
To watch the storm with all its wonder,
Raging in her lover's eyes.
Tonight my answer was a quick punch to the face. Ouch. So it was to be one of those nights. You know, for all that I loved my slayer and loved every bit of strength she had, sometimes I just wish she would hit like a girl.
"That wasn't very nice pet," I growled at her while she looked nonchalant. At one point in time she used to fear me. Or at least respect the damage I could do to her. That was lost with the blasted chip the little tin soldiers put inside me though. Blasted buggars.
With a mocking smile that made my stomach tighten she replied oh-so-sweetly, "Sorry Spike, all out of niceness today." Even when she sought to wound my manly ego I still found her sexy. She tried to back hand me, but with a burst of speed I caught her hand and used the force of her blow to send her flying across the room.
With her damned slayer agility she turned her forced flight into a controlled dive and tucked up for a roll. With the speed of a striking cobra she sprang back up, feet planted, arms wide, and all her womanly wrath visible in her blue eyes. I wasn't a vampire for nothing though and had made it behind her before she could blink. Grabbing her arms I jerked her back against my chest, growling lowly in her ear. "I asked for a quick snog pet, so how about we skip the foreplay?"
It always pissed her off the most when I caught her unawares like that. I don't know if it was a personal thing, or if she realized that if I had been a real enemy she would be dead… Again. Either way, she always got her payback for me doing so and tonight was no different. Both elbows came back sharply and with the force of a Mack truck. I was only able to get a loud grunt out before she had spun around and shoved me up against the cold stone wall. Hard.
"You don't know when to shut up, do you?" She asked before forcing her lips down onto mine. Finally we had gotten down to it.
If you've never kissed a slayer before, let me just tell you it's a lot like fighting one. You go into it thinking that you have a good chance of survival and that there will be a minimal amount of bloodshed, but in reality you fight like the devil for every inch of ground. Slayers don't kiss softly with a gentle passion. Oh no, they kiss you like they're trying to eat you alive. And you're just thankful to have been able to experience it.
At least that's how she was with me. I'd like to think I was the only one she had been that way with. The toy solider never would have survived past day one if she had. Even with his "special" vitamins. And as for tall, dark, and forehead... Well, I try not to think of them together. It kind of ruins the mood.
Pressed up against the wall like I was, I really was in no position to ask her about it either. Although usually by the time we got down to the kissing I'd have lost the last few wits I possess. Instead all I can think about is kissing the breath right out of her body.
Sometimes, if I was a very good boy, she'd let me have the upper hand for a bit. I think she liked the feeling of letting go actually. Of allowing someone else to have power and control over her, if just for a bit. This was one of those times, as I pushed strongly against her and managed to switch positions, her now pressed against the wall and me holding her firm.
Her eyes were closed partly in pleasure and if I let our lips part for even a moment she would moan lowly in her throat. The sound was feral and it drove me wild. I wanted to possess her, feel her, pretend that she was mine. She just wanted the unbearable ache to fade away for a time.
She had to ride the heat of passion,
Like a comet burning bright.
I couldn't take any more of it. I had to touch her and be touched in return. My hands tangled in her shirt and I cursed fervently at the ridiculous thing. Why did she feel the need to patrol in such a complicated bit of nothing? She laughed, or at least would have if my tongue wasn't warring with hers. Sure she could laugh, what was so hard about ripping off my simple black t-shirt? Her biggest concern was whether she would take the time to peel it off or just shred it to bits.
I however had to navigate not only a bunch of stupid crisscrossed straps, but afterwards I would have to contend with whatever lacy bit covered her breasts. And woe betide me if anything happened to either. The beat down she had given me the one time I had been too hasty has taught me patience.
Tonight she must have felt a slight stirring of compassion for me. Either that or she felt the same fervor I did. In just a few seconds she had wiggled out of all of it, top and bra, leaving just her skirt for me to contend with. I think I could handle that.
But first there was a whole lot of flesh bared for me to explore and reacquaint myself with. I went to work happily, suckling and biting every inch that I could get my mouth on. She repaid me by groaning in ecstasy, hands digging into my shoulders or holding my head tightly against her.
She told me she had had enough by pushing me over, none too gently I might add. But who was I to complain? Now it was usually my turn and I enjoyed it tremendously.
My shirt was gone before I could do more than blink, and then she was there on top of me, straddling me brazenly, her exquisite heat covering my straining length through both of our clothes. She almost made me forget our lower regions though by what she would do with her juicy lips and clever hands. Almost, but not quite.
When my own torment was over she reached for the fly of my pants, a wicked gleam of anticipation lighting up her eyes. Together we rid ourselves of each other's last bits of clothing, finally able to feel nothing but flesh against flesh. We both moved faster now, neither able to hold off on our desires anymore. All I could feel, taste, and smell was her. My slayer, my Buffy. She was my goddess, come down from her pedestal after all my patient years of worship. I could have drowned in her. I would have died for her.
But she couldn't even live for me. She didn't trust me, respect me, hell I don't even think she liked me. But she gave me this moment, sharing her pain with me and letting me try to ease it. I might never earn her heart, but she had given me a tiny piece of herself that she hadn't even really given her friends. Her pain, her sorrow, the depth of her despair. I was the only one to ever really see all of it and I would have given anything in this world to take it away from her.
The only thing I could give her though was this. My body and my heart, praying it was enough. Do vampires even pray? Not really, but for her I would.
With a trembling hand I touched her, feeling her writhing beneath me. She was so hot and tight, more than ready for me. I locked my eyes onto hers, one of the only times I ever could without seeing any sort of hate, anger, or malice in it. Just her desperate need, her desire. It was the same thing visible in my own eyes I'm sure. Wordlessly she begged me. Wordlessly of course cause she would never lower herself to say it out loud. But I didn't need the words, I knew at that moment she felt it as well. The reckless abandonment, the thrill of tasting the forbidden, forgetting about what should be and caring only about what is.
Rushing headlong in the wind
I gave into her demands and thrust into her. Halfway in she bucked her hips up to meet me and we both almost lost it right there. I had to stop for a time, not wanting it to end so soon. She gave me that small concession, letting me rest inside her. Her breathing was harsh and jagged in my ears, matched by my own I'm sure. I could feel her muscles clenching around me, pushing me ever closer to the brink, but I maintained control. With a growl I withdrew almost completely from her. She sighed beneath me, feeling the loss and emptiness, but I didn't allow that to go on for long.
I plunged into her again, drawing a gasp from her lips. The slick lines beckoned to me and I captured them with my own, letting our tongues clash against one another again. A rhythm was found and together we moved, our bodies straining against each other. I could hear my own pants and growls, sounding sensual and wild. She was just as loud, past the point of caring any more, wanting her release and that perfect moment of pleasure.
Now where only dreams have been
I could feel her muscles spasm, clamping down hard on me. Her ecstatic cries filled my ears and I grunted in satisfaction. Wanting to join her I pumped harder and faster, crashing into her with a bruising force. She accepted me though, still cresting the waves of her climax and met each thrust willingly. Finally my legs gave out as I too reached the peak, thrusting down into her one more time, lying spent in her warm embrace as I spilled my essence inside of her.
Breathless and sweaty we lay there on the floor together, limbs tangled and our bodies still joined. For one brief and shinning moment I was able to look into her eyes, her bottomless blue eyes that were always so haunted and full of pain, and watch them turn clear and bright, gazing upon me with tenderness and happiness. For a time the darkness had been pushed back for both of us and we were equals, seeking comfort in the other's body.
Gently I came out of her, my limbs still trembling, my body utterly spent. She would be exhausted too and allow me my moment to hold her, the last few precious seconds where I could pretend that what we did had meaning and came from mutual feelings of love. My mind would become overwhelmed by her soft and pliant presence, at peace with herself and me.
Sadly, as the saying goes, all good things must end.
There would be a brief warning before the storm broke. She would fidget slightly in my arms and her eyes would begin to cloud again with her sorrows and worries. "You never answered my question about the missing couple Spike."
I rolled my eyes, knowing our pleasant interlude was over. "What do you want me to say pet? I ate them? Tortured them? Forced them to watch episodes of Leave it to Beaver? I'm impotent in that area now, remember? I didn't do anything to any bloody couples."
And we would be off onto the next round of events, fighting and bickering as she hastily got dressed. From passion and lust to anger and mistrust in a heartbeat.
Burning both end of the night.
"Give me a break Spike! Just cause you can't do the dirty work doesn't mean you couldn't get some idiotic lackeys to do it for you! You're evil, remember?"
"Oh that's a fine thing to throw in my face now that the shagging is over!"
Oops. Must have crossed the line again. Her angry frown returned with a vengeance and if I wasn't mistaken there might have been a sparkle of tears in her eyes. "I hate you," she said quietly, disgust dripping from every word. Her jacket was pulled on and she made her way towards my door, not even bothering to look back at me.
"It's not me you hate pet, it's yourself," I called out to her crossly, wanting to kick myself as the words left my mouth. Way to win the girl over Spike.
She stopped for a moment, but she didn't turn back around. She didn't bother to close the door behind her either, a fact which pissed me off royally. I got up and stalked over to it naked, slamming it shut and enjoying the loud echo that hung in the air. It helped to alleviate the loneliness a bit.
My dank crypt seemed empty with out her in it now. I ached to have her back even as I hated her for treating me like her personal fuck doll. She was gone though and who knew when she'd come back. Maybe never. Maybe this had been the final straw and she would stay away for good.
Even as my dead heart clenched painfully at the thought I knew it wasn't true. She'd be back, just as sure as the sun would rise and turn me into Kentucky Fried Spike if I let it. Her sorrow and despair would become too much for her and she'd be back, looking for a fight and a little cold comfort. And I, the fool, would give it to her.
Why'd I let her do it to me? Treat me like her boy toy? Take her abuse and her torture? She didn't respect me, didn't care that each of our little illicit encounters was tearing me up inside. All she cared about was making herself feel a little better. But it didn't matter to me. I would give her what she wanted, what she needed, even if she would never admit it. I would take her cruelty, scorn, and pain, hoping one day for more. A kind word, a tender kiss, a slayer's love.