Title: 8,700 Miles.
Author: R.C. Monkeytree
Disclaimer: Oh, come on.
Rating: Let's say PG-13, for one naughty word.
Spoilers: Grave.
Summary: Yay for yet another "Soul-y Spike Returns Home" stories!
Like always, she felt him before she saw him. She told herself that it was because that he was a vampire, and she was a slayer. She told herself that it had nothing to do with who he was. She told herself that this- whatever it is they had- was nothing like what she had with her last undead lover.
"Hello, Spike," she said quietly.
He usually gave himself up right away, but this time, there was nothing. It was just silence. For a brief moment, Buffy wondered if her Spike Senses were off-kilter today.
"Hello, Buffy." His soft voice dismissed her thoughts. Still, she couldn't see him. She turned and faced the direction of his voice and saw nothing but the dark Sunnydale woods.
"You're back." A statement, not a question.
"It would appear so, luv." Still no sight of him. It unnerved her.
"Do you want to come out where I can see you or are you going to play the Stalker Boy game for a little while longer?"
She could sense his hesitation. After a couple of eternally long seconds, he emerged from the dark shadows where he usually dwelled.
It had been over three months since she'd last saw her former lover. Much to her chagrin, he looked just as handsome as she'd remembered him in her dreams. Still, something was off. Something was… different. He had retained the shock of platinum atop his head. His wardrobe was still depressingly monochromatic. His duster was missing, but that was expected, since it was safely tucked away in a cardboard box at the bottom of Buffy's closet, where she never dared to venture a peek ever since she'd shut it away.
He avoided her gaze and uneasily shuffled his weight from one foot to another. He looked… nervous. An adjective Buffy rarely associated with Spike.
"Where've you been?" She tried to be casual about it. She had promised herself that she wasn't going to care. Not about a monster who'd tried to… do what he did.
He didn't answer right away.
"I won't lie to you, Buffy," he said earnestly- another thing Buffy never associated with him. "I was… in Africa. A cave. Visitin' a demon to see about something I'd wanted."
Her mind fled to the worst possible scenario. She stared at his head, as if a penetrating stare would reveal to her the truth about the leash that was supposed to be there. His attempted violation of her had felt horrible. This was worse. The sense of betrayal stabbed at her, along with panic and fear.
"And did you? Get what you wanted?" she asked coldly. He finally met her eyes.
"Yes," he admitted. "But now I'm not so sure."
He looked at her, more radiant than he'd ever seen her, and all he wanted to do was tell her the truth. The suspicion and hurt in her eyes were more than he could bare. But he couldn't. He couldn't bring the word to his lips.
"Congratulations," she managed harshly.
He knew what she thought she knew. All it took was a simple explanation, and she'd stop looking at him like that. Like they were mortal enemies again. Like the last two years had never happened. But instead, he said:
"This changes nothin', pet."
"I think it does." Buffy withdrew a stake from her jacket.
-He had spent five nights and eleven hours looking for the cave.-
"Don't." Spike doesn't beg. Not then, and not now.
"What did you *think* I was going to do?" She tightened her grip on the weapon for moral support. " 'Gee- you're chipless again. Let's fuck.' "
"It's not like that," he explains weakly. "I wasn't…"
-For five days, he hid beneath disfigured cliffs, living off nothing.-
"I should have done this a long time ago."
"I've changed, Buffy. I'm different now. I'm not like I was."
"I've heard that one before." She took a step closer, her sense of duty mounting. "You're a liar and a murderer."
-He'd suffered through the three trials.-
"Not anymore," he said defiantly. The dark look in her eyes told him that she didn't believe him.
-He'd endured the most excruciating physical pain he'd ever felt for seventy-two hours.-
She flung herself at him, the stake pointing at where it'd hurt the most. It missed only in the literal sense. Her attack sent him rolling over a gravestone, taking her with him.
-When it was over, there were more than twenty-one cuts on his body.-
She violently untangled herself from him and sprung to her feet. He weakly rose to his knees, the wood protruding from his shoulder. She produced another stake, and attacked again. He didn't fight back. He didn't even try. She knocked him over easily and she beat him.
Over and over. Smashing in the face she thought to be so handsome. It was so reminiscent of the last time, the time behind the police station.
-He didn't even include the three broken bones he had.-
She straddled him, like she had so many times before, but everything is different this time. The second stake was pointed directly at his heart. And she froze there. She looked in his eyes and saw something she couldn't recognize.
-After everything, he spent one week on his back. Just healing.-
Slowly, she released him. She climbed off him and backed away.
"Leave," she said firmly. "Get out of here. I don't *ever* want to see you again. I see your face around this town again and I will kill you. No threats this time. That's a promise. One that I intend to keep."
-He traveled North, and spent one month in the complete silence and solitude of the cold. He lived off dead animals like a scavenger.-
She turned around and walked away, her head held high. After all, she had done the right thing. Reclaimed her moral dignity. And left a broken man in the dirt where she thought he belonged.
-He'd spent two months, repenting and brooding, just like another vampire had.-
He watched her leave through swollen eyelids. He said nothing. He just counted.
5 nights, 11 hours of searching.
5 days as a refugee from the sun.
3 difficult trials.
72 hours of indescribable pain.
21 cuts, gashes and wounds .
1 week of healing.
1 month of solitude.
2 months of nothingness.
8,700 miles. The return trip home to his love just so he can reclaim his broken heart.
The word "soul" never left his lips.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
All right, don't make me beg here.
Okay, fine- please leave me some feedback? Negative, positive- just let me know where to go from here.
This is intended to be the first chapter of a larger series.
Author: R.C. Monkeytree
Disclaimer: Oh, come on.
Rating: Let's say PG-13, for one naughty word.
Spoilers: Grave.
Summary: Yay for yet another "Soul-y Spike Returns Home" stories!
Like always, she felt him before she saw him. She told herself that it was because that he was a vampire, and she was a slayer. She told herself that it had nothing to do with who he was. She told herself that this- whatever it is they had- was nothing like what she had with her last undead lover.
"Hello, Spike," she said quietly.
He usually gave himself up right away, but this time, there was nothing. It was just silence. For a brief moment, Buffy wondered if her Spike Senses were off-kilter today.
"Hello, Buffy." His soft voice dismissed her thoughts. Still, she couldn't see him. She turned and faced the direction of his voice and saw nothing but the dark Sunnydale woods.
"You're back." A statement, not a question.
"It would appear so, luv." Still no sight of him. It unnerved her.
"Do you want to come out where I can see you or are you going to play the Stalker Boy game for a little while longer?"
She could sense his hesitation. After a couple of eternally long seconds, he emerged from the dark shadows where he usually dwelled.
It had been over three months since she'd last saw her former lover. Much to her chagrin, he looked just as handsome as she'd remembered him in her dreams. Still, something was off. Something was… different. He had retained the shock of platinum atop his head. His wardrobe was still depressingly monochromatic. His duster was missing, but that was expected, since it was safely tucked away in a cardboard box at the bottom of Buffy's closet, where she never dared to venture a peek ever since she'd shut it away.
He avoided her gaze and uneasily shuffled his weight from one foot to another. He looked… nervous. An adjective Buffy rarely associated with Spike.
"Where've you been?" She tried to be casual about it. She had promised herself that she wasn't going to care. Not about a monster who'd tried to… do what he did.
He didn't answer right away.
"I won't lie to you, Buffy," he said earnestly- another thing Buffy never associated with him. "I was… in Africa. A cave. Visitin' a demon to see about something I'd wanted."
Her mind fled to the worst possible scenario. She stared at his head, as if a penetrating stare would reveal to her the truth about the leash that was supposed to be there. His attempted violation of her had felt horrible. This was worse. The sense of betrayal stabbed at her, along with panic and fear.
"And did you? Get what you wanted?" she asked coldly. He finally met her eyes.
"Yes," he admitted. "But now I'm not so sure."
He looked at her, more radiant than he'd ever seen her, and all he wanted to do was tell her the truth. The suspicion and hurt in her eyes were more than he could bare. But he couldn't. He couldn't bring the word to his lips.
"Congratulations," she managed harshly.
He knew what she thought she knew. All it took was a simple explanation, and she'd stop looking at him like that. Like they were mortal enemies again. Like the last two years had never happened. But instead, he said:
"This changes nothin', pet."
"I think it does." Buffy withdrew a stake from her jacket.
-He had spent five nights and eleven hours looking for the cave.-
"Don't." Spike doesn't beg. Not then, and not now.
"What did you *think* I was going to do?" She tightened her grip on the weapon for moral support. " 'Gee- you're chipless again. Let's fuck.' "
"It's not like that," he explains weakly. "I wasn't…"
-For five days, he hid beneath disfigured cliffs, living off nothing.-
"I should have done this a long time ago."
"I've changed, Buffy. I'm different now. I'm not like I was."
"I've heard that one before." She took a step closer, her sense of duty mounting. "You're a liar and a murderer."
-He'd suffered through the three trials.-
"Not anymore," he said defiantly. The dark look in her eyes told him that she didn't believe him.
-He'd endured the most excruciating physical pain he'd ever felt for seventy-two hours.-
She flung herself at him, the stake pointing at where it'd hurt the most. It missed only in the literal sense. Her attack sent him rolling over a gravestone, taking her with him.
-When it was over, there were more than twenty-one cuts on his body.-
She violently untangled herself from him and sprung to her feet. He weakly rose to his knees, the wood protruding from his shoulder. She produced another stake, and attacked again. He didn't fight back. He didn't even try. She knocked him over easily and she beat him.
Over and over. Smashing in the face she thought to be so handsome. It was so reminiscent of the last time, the time behind the police station.
-He didn't even include the three broken bones he had.-
She straddled him, like she had so many times before, but everything is different this time. The second stake was pointed directly at his heart. And she froze there. She looked in his eyes and saw something she couldn't recognize.
-After everything, he spent one week on his back. Just healing.-
Slowly, she released him. She climbed off him and backed away.
"Leave," she said firmly. "Get out of here. I don't *ever* want to see you again. I see your face around this town again and I will kill you. No threats this time. That's a promise. One that I intend to keep."
-He traveled North, and spent one month in the complete silence and solitude of the cold. He lived off dead animals like a scavenger.-
She turned around and walked away, her head held high. After all, she had done the right thing. Reclaimed her moral dignity. And left a broken man in the dirt where she thought he belonged.
-He'd spent two months, repenting and brooding, just like another vampire had.-
He watched her leave through swollen eyelids. He said nothing. He just counted.
5 nights, 11 hours of searching.
5 days as a refugee from the sun.
3 difficult trials.
72 hours of indescribable pain.
21 cuts, gashes and wounds .
1 week of healing.
1 month of solitude.
2 months of nothingness.
8,700 miles. The return trip home to his love just so he can reclaim his broken heart.
The word "soul" never left his lips.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
All right, don't make me beg here.
Okay, fine- please leave me some feedback? Negative, positive- just let me know where to go from here.
This is intended to be the first chapter of a larger series.