Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own the characters. They are all the work of the brilliant mind that is Joss Whedon. Though, the story is mine.
A/N: It's a short, Bangel/Spuffy story. Comments would be great, I can only grow. But please, don't be mean about it. This is my first fanfiction. Sorry for the shortness, only supposed to be a one-shot. If people like it enough, I will write more.
Spike caressed the satiny skin of Buffy's cheek, watching her golden
hair spread across the tattered sheets of his bed. Buffy hated the
small talk, and possibly would leave if he started to speak as much as
syllable. So he wouldn't speak, or tell her how he enjoyed his time with
her. Them, tucked up in his rickety bed, the heat of her breath
washing over his skin setting soul-well, chip on fire. She would
sometimes let him call her special, or beautiful. But he could never
call her his. She was unattainable. A wild heart running free. And he
loved it. He lived the passion she gave in everything she did.
Slaying, love-making, even driving him crazy.
When the platonic night was over, she left. He got a goodbye, which
was progress in his mind. He wanted Buffy to stay.
She was using him. Using him to satisfy her greedy needs, and he
didn't mind. She snuck in her house quietly, figuring she could take a
shower. She stalked up the steps, and heard Willow and Tara talking.
She didn't want to interrupt them, but she needed to speak to them. She
slowly poked her head in the room, putting on the best smile she can
manage considering how disgusted with herself she felt. They were
looking over the magic, chanting some stuff in a language Buffy
couldn't be recognized. But they stopped when she poked her head in.
"Thanks," Buffy began "for watching Dawn. Hard night." She didn't want
to explain that the reason she was sore wasn't from Slaying. Willow
was the first to speak up.
"Of course, Buffy. Ordered pizza if you are hungry." Buffy could tell
the gentleness they used around her. Being pulled from heaven wasn't
easy. "No thanks, I'm just going to shower."
She let the water scald her skin. She wanted it to burn away so she
didn't have to feel so vile. No matter how hard she scrubbed at the
bruises that Spike left, they wouldn't leave. She finally gave up, and
went to bed instead if wasting hot water on her hopeless dreams. She
wanted comfort when she cacconed herself in between the blanket and
bed. She wanted Angel's comfort and Spike's arms.
Angel had waited for the right moment to go actually speak to
Buffy, instead of just watching her in the covers of the shadows. He
could never find the right time. He hadn't heard news of Buffy since he
was told she was back. His girl was alive again. He retreated to Los
Angelus after checking in, but he never made himself known. The demon
he managed to kill got him thinking of the velvety hair, the beautiful
eyes that was Buffy. He wanted to kill with her once more. He wanted
Buffy here.