TITLE: "Said she'd be back"
AUTHOR: Betty Woo (lwa@rocketmail.com)
RATING: PG, non-specific reference to violence & sex
PAIRINGS: Buffy/Spike. Kinda.
SPOILERS: Starts at close of Episode 7.1, includes season 6 spoilers.
FEEDBACK: Crunchy in milk!
DISCLAIMER: Joss owns all the Buffy characters, and we love him for it.
Said She'd Be Back
"It's about Power."
Spike didn't need to look up to see her. He knew just how she'd look, staring down at him in that disgusted way. She'd have her arms folded, that don't-mess-with-me pose she adopted whenever she knew that she'd gotten the upper hand. The one that made her look confident and strong and more perfect than ever.
Not her. Spike shook his head, pulling at his hair. Not her. She'd been here, really here, and he could tell the difference. It looked like her and sounded like her. Hell, it even smelled like her, from the cemetery dust on its boots to that floral stuff she used to wash her hair.
It'd been in one of the bottles, next to the tub. Next to where he'd tried to...
Oh, God. Not her.
"Do you want to hear my speech?" Spike rocked back and forth on his heels, hating the sound of his own voice. Even without the accent, it was the same voice. The one that lied to her, the one that promised things he could never keep.
"You're beneath me."
That he was, beneath them all, down in the dark where he belonged. Clasping his knees, he rocked like a child, listening for the long silence that meant he was alone again. He didn't know what was worse any more. Listening to someone tell him he was pathetic, or being alone so he could remind himself of that fact over and over again.
But she'd said. Said she'd come back.
"All in a row," he was mumbling, not that it mattered. "Not a duck, not a swan."
He wanted to cry again. All he ever did anymore, cry in the dark. It almost made him regret all those times he'd made fun of Angel for doing the same.
Astonishing, how many things he'd discovered to regret.
"It ran. The speech. In the rain."
Even if she said he was pathetic too. At least she'd be here.
Down here in the dark, with him. He remembers that night at the Bronze, pulling her away from her friends and into the darkness, the softness of her cheek as his lips brushed it, whispering to her that she belonged in the dark.
More lies. He'd done that to her, pulled her into darkness. And when she pulled away, when she escaped towards the light, he'd tried to pull her back, pulling apart that damned ugly bathrobe because he knew he could make her feel it, make her want him again...
The pain snapped him back, like it always did. The only thing that could stop him from remembering in all too vivid detail exactly what he'd done. On his feet, it seemed, although he didn't remember standing, didn't remember digging his nails into his chest again. Tapping into a wound half-healed, dragging the skin apart, making it bleed.
Better than he deserved. He could see her eyes moving across his chest, the way she winced when she saw what he'd done to himself. It was better than he deserved.
"Shoulda been caned."
But still. She'd be back. She said she'd get back to him. And she wouldn't want to see this. He ran bloody fingers through his hair, shaking at the effort of stopping. Wouldn't want her to see him like this. Wouldn't want to hurt her again.
Trembling, he tugged the edges of his shirt closed, fumbled with the buttons one by one. Covering it all up, making himself look proper this time. He'd be ready, have his speech all practiced and everything. She'd be back, and this time he'd try not to let her down.
* * *
Even in the dark, this Sunnydale High looked brighter, and smaller. Buffy took the stairs two at a time, her body racing in tandem with her thoughts. She was getting better every day at managing the jumble of worries that filled up her life. Most of the time, she felt like she was on top of things again, dealing with Dawn and demons and all the rest.
She fumbled in her pockets for the master key that Xander had provided to her that afternoon. Handy, having someone around who could ensure her access to the school during off hours. Not that locked doors would really have been a problem, but breaking and entering her new workplace before her first day was probably not in the Model Employee Handbook.
The locked slide open with a gentle click. She put her hand on the door and started to push.
Most of the time. But sometimes it felt like it was all going to be too much again, too much and too soon. She'd struggled so hard, trying to find a balance between her duties as Buffy, the Slayer, and Buffy, the person. Learned how to decide what things needed to be done right now, like clearing out that nest of vamps over on Violet Street, and what could wait.
Her sister, growing up so fast and so often alone, that couldn't wait. Xander, needing someone to share a beer and his loss over Anya, that couldn't wait. Figuring out how she felt about Spike, knowing what she needed to say before trying to say it...
Well, that couldn't wait either.
She wasn't ready for this. All those months of wondering where he'd gone, pushing the things that had happened out of her thoughts, and she still wasn't ready.
The lock slide back into place with the same gentle click.
* * *
Almost dawn. Even in the darkness, he could smell it coming, feel the tug of sleep pulling at the edges of his flesh. He leaned back against the wall, sliding down, pressing his weight back so he could feel the rough concrete grating against his skin through the shirt. Hungry as he was, it was hard to stave off the urge to rest.
But he had to. If he slept, then when she got here he might forget something, might lose his place. And she said that she'd be back. He slammed his head back, smacking it against the wall. The pain sharpened him up, that's all. Reminded him of her, a little bit. So he waited, and went back to the beginning once again.
"Buffy, I..."
AUTHOR: Betty Woo (lwa@rocketmail.com)
RATING: PG, non-specific reference to violence & sex
PAIRINGS: Buffy/Spike. Kinda.
SPOILERS: Starts at close of Episode 7.1, includes season 6 spoilers.
FEEDBACK: Crunchy in milk!
DISCLAIMER: Joss owns all the Buffy characters, and we love him for it.
Said She'd Be Back
"It's about Power."
Spike didn't need to look up to see her. He knew just how she'd look, staring down at him in that disgusted way. She'd have her arms folded, that don't-mess-with-me pose she adopted whenever she knew that she'd gotten the upper hand. The one that made her look confident and strong and more perfect than ever.
Not her. Spike shook his head, pulling at his hair. Not her. She'd been here, really here, and he could tell the difference. It looked like her and sounded like her. Hell, it even smelled like her, from the cemetery dust on its boots to that floral stuff she used to wash her hair.
It'd been in one of the bottles, next to the tub. Next to where he'd tried to...
Oh, God. Not her.
"Do you want to hear my speech?" Spike rocked back and forth on his heels, hating the sound of his own voice. Even without the accent, it was the same voice. The one that lied to her, the one that promised things he could never keep.
"You're beneath me."
That he was, beneath them all, down in the dark where he belonged. Clasping his knees, he rocked like a child, listening for the long silence that meant he was alone again. He didn't know what was worse any more. Listening to someone tell him he was pathetic, or being alone so he could remind himself of that fact over and over again.
But she'd said. Said she'd come back.
"All in a row," he was mumbling, not that it mattered. "Not a duck, not a swan."
He wanted to cry again. All he ever did anymore, cry in the dark. It almost made him regret all those times he'd made fun of Angel for doing the same.
Astonishing, how many things he'd discovered to regret.
"It ran. The speech. In the rain."
Even if she said he was pathetic too. At least she'd be here.
Down here in the dark, with him. He remembers that night at the Bronze, pulling her away from her friends and into the darkness, the softness of her cheek as his lips brushed it, whispering to her that she belonged in the dark.
More lies. He'd done that to her, pulled her into darkness. And when she pulled away, when she escaped towards the light, he'd tried to pull her back, pulling apart that damned ugly bathrobe because he knew he could make her feel it, make her want him again...
The pain snapped him back, like it always did. The only thing that could stop him from remembering in all too vivid detail exactly what he'd done. On his feet, it seemed, although he didn't remember standing, didn't remember digging his nails into his chest again. Tapping into a wound half-healed, dragging the skin apart, making it bleed.
Better than he deserved. He could see her eyes moving across his chest, the way she winced when she saw what he'd done to himself. It was better than he deserved.
"Shoulda been caned."
But still. She'd be back. She said she'd get back to him. And she wouldn't want to see this. He ran bloody fingers through his hair, shaking at the effort of stopping. Wouldn't want her to see him like this. Wouldn't want to hurt her again.
Trembling, he tugged the edges of his shirt closed, fumbled with the buttons one by one. Covering it all up, making himself look proper this time. He'd be ready, have his speech all practiced and everything. She'd be back, and this time he'd try not to let her down.
* * *
Even in the dark, this Sunnydale High looked brighter, and smaller. Buffy took the stairs two at a time, her body racing in tandem with her thoughts. She was getting better every day at managing the jumble of worries that filled up her life. Most of the time, she felt like she was on top of things again, dealing with Dawn and demons and all the rest.
She fumbled in her pockets for the master key that Xander had provided to her that afternoon. Handy, having someone around who could ensure her access to the school during off hours. Not that locked doors would really have been a problem, but breaking and entering her new workplace before her first day was probably not in the Model Employee Handbook.
The locked slide open with a gentle click. She put her hand on the door and started to push.
Most of the time. But sometimes it felt like it was all going to be too much again, too much and too soon. She'd struggled so hard, trying to find a balance between her duties as Buffy, the Slayer, and Buffy, the person. Learned how to decide what things needed to be done right now, like clearing out that nest of vamps over on Violet Street, and what could wait.
Her sister, growing up so fast and so often alone, that couldn't wait. Xander, needing someone to share a beer and his loss over Anya, that couldn't wait. Figuring out how she felt about Spike, knowing what she needed to say before trying to say it...
Well, that couldn't wait either.
She wasn't ready for this. All those months of wondering where he'd gone, pushing the things that had happened out of her thoughts, and she still wasn't ready.
The lock slide back into place with the same gentle click.
* * *
Almost dawn. Even in the darkness, he could smell it coming, feel the tug of sleep pulling at the edges of his flesh. He leaned back against the wall, sliding down, pressing his weight back so he could feel the rough concrete grating against his skin through the shirt. Hungry as he was, it was hard to stave off the urge to rest.
But he had to. If he slept, then when she got here he might forget something, might lose his place. And she said that she'd be back. He slammed his head back, smacking it against the wall. The pain sharpened him up, that's all. Reminded him of her, a little bit. So he waited, and went back to the beginning once again.
"Buffy, I..."