Title: Stay
Author: Phaedra's Love
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Spike/Buffy
Disclaimer: Everything you see here belongs to Joss.
A/N: This was just a short little ficlet submitted for au100 on livejournal.
She watches them day in and day out. Girls in strappy tank tops and halter tops, sloppy purple eye make-up dotting across their eyelids as the boys with their leather coats and slicked back hair lead them into the club by the arm. It's just another night at another trendy club in New York City. Buffy wishes she could remember when life was that simple, when she was happy but no matter how hard she tries she can't remember.
She remembers bits and pieces. False memories of holding a baby sister in her arms, smiling with Willow or Xander, laughing at one of Giles' culturally inept jokes, Angel. She remembers it all but in the memories she grows colder because she knows that not one of them can touch her anymore. Nothing matters when there's nothing but a block of ice that refuses to melt in your gut. That's what Buffy feels like, the walking ice queen.
Now all she can do is watch. Working as a bouncer she finds helps her new role in the world as impartial observer. The world passes her by a thousand times ever night and she barely even bats an eye.
Sometimes after the club has closed for the night she disappears upstairs into her room and finds the single reminder of a lifetime that's so far away she can't even remember it. Two small scars marring perfect golden skin. They reflect in the mirror and her fingertips stray across the bumps. The angry puppy. She almost laughs at the memory but can't find her voice, she figures it dried up with her soul somewhere in the ether between this reality and the heaven she had previously occupied.
After she finishes looking in the mirror she sits on the edge of a lumpy mattress, her fingers straying beneath the covers until she feels the cool metal beneath them. Pulling the knife free she stares at it for a moment, lost in the glimmering shine. This is all part of the ritual and if she skips one part than it doesn't work. She can't feel anything. She needs this, needs to feel the sharpened knife sketching into the flesh of her bare abdomen. Over and over again. Shallow cuts and all she can feel is more cold.
"What's that you got there, Love?" Spike's voice startles her and she quickly drops the knife to the floor and kicks it beneath the bed before pulling her shirt down.
"What have I told you about coming in here, Spike? You can't just come into my room whenever you feel like it." Her face is growing warm with embarressment and she almost stops to marvel at it. The knife isn't the only thing she can feel. Righteous anger pours through her at having her private moment spied on. She feels exposed, angry, vulnerable. Most importantly, she feels.
"Didn't know I was bustin' in on a private moment, Slayer. Looks like you were busy too." There's a charmingly arrogant smirk spread across his face and she knows that he witnessed her private activities. "You're bleedin'." He motions down to her shirt and she glances down with a frown to see a spot of blood tainting the blue fabric of her tank top.
"Look what you made me do." She grumbles, unfairly blaming the soiled shirt, her soiled life on Spike.
"Have to be careful playin' games like that. Someone could get hurt." He winks at her playfully before turning to the door.
"Wait!" Her voice betrays her and she almost kicks herself for it but she's beyond caring. She's beyond shame when it comes to her relationships and it becomes blatantly obvious to her that there's no one left to judge her.
Impulsively she bends down to pick up the knife on the floor before slowly standing up and walking towards Spike.
"You could stay." She barely whispers as she places the knife in his hands.
And she knows that he will.