Summary: During the Doublemeat Palace episode, when Buffy goes on break with Spike. This is my thought on what was going through her head at the time.
Random Thoughts
By Jasmine Storm
She walked outside with him, her break short and to the point, as was her feelings at the moment. Confusion filled her face. She had seen him through the window, lurking around outside like a, well, like a vampire lurks.
She had only wanted to talk to him. That was all. Really.
Okay, well, maybe not everything, but she was at work, she had a job. It wasn't something that you did, stand outside and screw on your break.
Not that she'd care if her boss saw her, he was too weird beyond words. Her mind could barely register Spike's hands on her, the feeling of him pulling her uniform apart, and gaining access to her skin. She felt his touches, his caresses, his thrusts, but they were almost something distant, something in the background of her mind.
Mechanically, she flowed in the motions of his caresses, the release of his touch to her, pulling her away from what was around her, but at the same time, she didn't really understand what she was doing.
Or maybe she did, and she didn't want to admit to herself that she wanted to be there with him, against the wall, him thrusting into her like a maniac. His breath caressed her neck as he thrusted into her, her hips instantly responding to his movements.
Part of her felt cheap; like a sorry, pathetic child, lost in a world of at-the-moment lust. The things going on inside the restaurant still ran through her mind. In the foreground. She blamed her concerns about where she worked for her distractions.
But in all honesty, she knew there was more reason than that for her concern.
She didn't have to come outside during her break.
She didn't have to talk to him.
She didn't have to let him touch her.
She didn't.
But here she was, letting Spike have his way with her.
Part of her, the Willow/Xander/Giles-based logic part of her wanted to vomit, grab a stake and finish this once and for all. But the Buffy part of her, the part that lived deep inside her, buried below her, deeper than she could have imagined, wanted this.
She knew it.
And it made her very angry. Very, very angry.
I went there of my own accord, she thought to herself, about going to see Spike when she was invisible. She knew, with that same logic that said she should stake Spike right now, that she never should have gone. She heard the different logics battle as she went in his crypt. As she ripped his clothes off, as she licked his chest up and down, as she touched his body. She knew she shouldn't be there. I did that because I wanted to. I wanted to be there.
Spike moaned, thrusting firmly into her, one last time, his body quivering against her as he came. He let out a deep breath, his lips millimeters from her ear.
"I love you," he whispered softly, his lips gently tugging on her earlobe.
I know you do, she thought to herself. Her face remained stoic, and she didn't look at his face. The words, still floating in her head, remained there. She couldn't bring herself to even acknowledge what he said. It went against her better judgment to say anything at all. It was better left unsaid, her mind, that W/X/G-logic told her. He could take it the wrong way.
Spike pulled his eyes up to hers, helping her adjust her clothes under his duster. She looked down as she fixed her uniform, not wanting to look in his eyes. She didn't want her eyes to show him her mind's battle. She didn't want him to know that part of her at least wanted to acknowledge him, his feelings.
"You know that I do," he whispered to her.
She fought the need to answer back, her voice stammering before looking back up at him. "I have to get back inside." Her face was still the same stoic expression it had been the whole time, but, something in her voice faltered just a teeny, tiny bit.
Spike heard it. Anyone with human hearing would have missed it, but he heard it. "By all means," he said, stepping away from her.
Just as she stepped away from him, he grabbed her arm, pulling her around to look at him. "Whatever you need, you know I'll be here for you."
For the briefest of seconds, almost too quick for even Buffy to recognize it, the deeply buried part of herself came up to the top. It flashed across her face, and she suddenly looked vulnerable.
Spike knew that he was seeing something that she would never admit to ever, but he saw it. The flash of insecurity, that flash of suddenly female I'm-scared-and-vulnerable-and-I-need-you-to-help-me emotion. The one that Spike knew was buried deep inside her, deeper than even she knew. The one he felt when he was on top of her, when he was inside her. That deep feeling he felt that first time they had made love.
And to him, it was love-making. It wasn't screwing. For him, it would never be screwing. No matter how carnal, how passionate, how vibrant the experience. It was still love-making. No matter what he said to her.
He saw it, that tiny little look, the one that gave him more hope, more wishful thinking than someone undead should have and he wasn't about to forget it. No amount of sex could make up for that briefest of moments when she looked at him with that in her eyes.
He let go of her arm, and she walked back inside. He saw her go back in, put her silly little hat on, and get back to work.
He still wanted to steal her away, bring her a bleedin' armored truck, if that would make her financial problems go away. Anything to ease her burden. He turned and walked away, back toward his crypt. He had felt her frustrations and her lack of enthusiasm earlier against the wall, but he had tried to ignore it. Still, he had seen in her eyes that it was much more complex than even she'd willingly admit. If anything else went wrong in the Slayer's life, he wondered if she could take it. Nevertheless, he'd be there for her, whatever she needed from him.
No matter the cost.
End.