Title: Wasting My Time
Author: Cassandra Mulder
E-mail/Feedback: Yes, please. :) dana_mulder32@yahoo.com
Spoilers: Up through season six "Smashed".
Rating: PG-13 for some language and insinuation.
Classification: Spike angst; songfic; B/S
Summary: Spike finally gets fed up with Buffy.
Written: November 11-24, 2001
Disclaimer: All things Buffy belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, and UPN. They aren't mine in any way, *sigh*, and I am not making any money off of this all consuming hobby. Hmph. So there. I also don't own "Wasting My Time" by Default. They own that as far as I know.
Author's Notes: Bitter!Spike straight ahead. You gotta love that, he's right in his element. Anyway... This is just me getting revenge for Spike for him. Did that make sense? Probably not. It changed just a tad toward the end, after I saw "Smashed". Had to a little bit, since I know he can hurt Buffy now. Before everyone starts complaining, there's going to be a Buffy-centric sequel, so don't panic.
To the Angel Mobile, away!
*************************************************************************************
Well, this is not for real
Afraid to feel
I just hit the floor
Don't ask for more
Spike didn't have to come up for air, but Buffy did. They parted, she gasped a moment, and then picked right up where they left off.
They really needed to stop making out just anywhere and everywhere. Especially while standing up. They were about to knock each other over, and it wouldn't have been the first time.
Buffy wound her arms around Spike's neck, and all rational thought, or what she had left of it, was lost to his kisses. She had never in her life been kissed like he kissed her. It was hot and cold, pain and pleasure, want and need all wrapped up.
She knew she was crazy for doing this, knew it with every fiber of her being. It was against everything that - well, it was just against *everything*. Slayer rules, the laws of God, man, and nature...
And yet, she couldn't leave him alone now. He was all she had, for all the wrong reasons.
Spike knew what was going on, but as much as he'd been wanting this, he couldn't help himself. He hated himself for it every minute of the day and night. Buffy was using him and he was letting her.
In a way he was using her, too. Yes, he loved her more anything, but this was the only way he could get near her. It might not have been right, but seldom did a desperate man do the right thing.
Seldom did Spike do the right thing.
Until he met Buffy Anne Summers, that is. He'd hardly wanted to do anything but the right thing since he'd fallen for her. Torture, sticking around when he could've left, taking care of Dawn. All of that was completely against his demon.
It had been weeks, but he finally came to his senses, took Buffy by the shoulders, and set her away from him.
"No, no more," he said, looking at her puzzled expression. Then he simply turned to walk away.
"Spike..." Buffy called and ran after him. She laid a hand on his arm. "What's wrong?"
How could she ask him that?
Spike turned slightly to face her.
"You said it yourself before all this started, Buffy. It isn't real. At least not as far as you're concerned. I would give you anything, but I can't take anything from you that's not real."
He turned from her again and continued down the street. That damn spell had worn off long ago, and he was still telling the bloody truth. He could feel Buffy's eyes on him as he walked away.
Back to his crypt, back to his torment.
He'd tried to be there for her, but it just wasn't enough anymore. He had finally hit bottom emotionally.
I'm wasting my time
I'm wasting my time
Back in his tomb, Spike was halfway through his first bottle of bourbon. The second was on the floor beside him.
He'd drink, curse Buffy, drink, curse the day he ever met Buffy, and drink some more.
There was no real getting anywhere with her, God knows he tried. All he'd done was show his love and devotion time and time again, and she'd put him off just as many times.
He was good enough to be her boy toy, but nothing more.
There were thousands of other places he could be, and yet here he was stuck in Sunnydale. Unable to hunt, unable to kill, unable to stop loving that bloody frustrating Slayer, no matter what she did to him.
He just couldn't do it anymore. She wanted him, his kisses, and his bed, but not because it was him. She was running and hiding from everything by being with him.
Being with him wasn't real to her. It was escape. Buffy would suffer through the day, patrol, and come to him at night. She'd forget things, for awhile, and then it would start all over.
It was a vicious, vicious cycle, and Spike, of all people, had to be the one to put a stop to it.
Her friends, the only support she'd ever had, were falling apart around her. Dawn, though she meant well, didn't know how to help her. Giles was gone.
Spike sighed. Now he was starting to sympathize with her, and he couldn't do that. He was supposed to be angry with her, not a guest at her pity party. Which is exactly the way she would want things.
He stood up and gripped the now empty bottle so hard that it shattered in his hand. He broke it and dropped it so fast it barely hurt him, and he moved on to the next bottle of liquor.
As he took the first drink, he heard his door squeak. He didn't even have to turn around to know who it was.
"What are you doing here?" he asked bitterly.
Buffy hadn't quite been prepared for that tone.
"I, I, uh... You left... So suddenly..."
"That I did," he replied distantly.
"I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
You can't stop the feeling
There is no reason
Spike turned around slowly, surveying her with narrowed eyes.
"No you didn't, Buffy."
A small frown creased her forehead. "What?"
He took a step toward her, then another. Slowly, deliberately, trying to intimidate the Slayer, if only just a little bit.
Buffy stood her ground, worried just a little, but trying not to let it show.
"You don't give a damn how *I* feel," he said, his voice dangerously low.
"I-" Buffy started, but he grabbed her by the arms and pushed her up against the wall.
He held her there, looking into her now huge hazel eyes, unblinking.
"I really don't want to hear anymore lame ass excuses, okay? I have tried to be there for you ever since you came back, before that even, and I thought you were finally learning to trust me. Turns out you just couldn't handle everything that was happening, so you learned to use me instead," he sneered.
Buffy shook her head, not quite comprehending what he said. It must be the truth, she thought. She always did have a hard time with that.
"Look, Spike, I think we need to talk," she barely managed to blurt out.
Dejected, he let her arms go abruptly, his hands falling to his sides. He didn't step away, just stood there in front of her, staring.
"Now you want to talk, do ya, luv? I'd say it's far too late for that. Maybe you should've thought of talking three or four weeks ago."
Buffy was suddenly very interested in the floor.
"I realize what I've been doing, Spike. I do."
That brought the emotion back to his voice.
"I wish I could believe that, Buffy, but I don't think you do realize.
"I love you. I'm *in* love with you. You know that, and I know that, it's no secret. But see, I'm just a lowly vampire to you still, and that's how you'll always think of me. I'm chipped, sure, so you couldn't possibly have had anything to do with who I am now."
Buffy's eyes were filling up with tears.
"Did you know me three years ago?" Spike asked.
"Yes."
"Is that who I am now?"
"I - I don't think so."
Spike rolled his eyes and sighed. "You don't think so."
He spun around and walked to the other side of the room.
"Well, I'll tell you this now, Slayer. If I still had any desire to kill you, I can guarantee you'd be dead. Again. Nothing would stop me. But it's kinda been there, done that at this point, and just let me say, it didn't really do anything for me.
"You know I can hurt you, you know I can kill you. But I haven't, and I wouldn't. So what is the deal, Buffy?"
All of the sudden her defiant side, the one that wouldn't let her tell him how she really felt, kicked in. She wasn't going to grovel to him anymore, no matter what she'd done.
"Apparently there is no deal, Spike. If I could take back every minute of the last month, I would," she said with venom.
That hardly affected Spike now. Buffy had already done too much else for that to hurt.
"Well, again, that's where you and I are completely different. Because even though it was all make believe, to you anyway, it's all I had. It's all I wanted. So you can leave, and you can stay away, but I'll have that. My feelings for you won't stop just because you don't have any feelings at all."
Buffy swallowed hard. Why did he always have to be so blunt? So straightforward with his feelings?
And who was he to stand there and tell her she didn't have any feelings?
At her non-response, Spike took a deep breath and rolled his eyes.
"Look, Buffy, just do both of us a favor and get out."
She barely gave him another look before she turned and did as he said, leaving him to slump down on the floor and drink himself into a Buffy-free oblivion.
The End
Author: Cassandra Mulder
E-mail/Feedback: Yes, please. :) dana_mulder32@yahoo.com
Spoilers: Up through season six "Smashed".
Rating: PG-13 for some language and insinuation.
Classification: Spike angst; songfic; B/S
Summary: Spike finally gets fed up with Buffy.
Written: November 11-24, 2001
Disclaimer: All things Buffy belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, and UPN. They aren't mine in any way, *sigh*, and I am not making any money off of this all consuming hobby. Hmph. So there. I also don't own "Wasting My Time" by Default. They own that as far as I know.
Author's Notes: Bitter!Spike straight ahead. You gotta love that, he's right in his element. Anyway... This is just me getting revenge for Spike for him. Did that make sense? Probably not. It changed just a tad toward the end, after I saw "Smashed". Had to a little bit, since I know he can hurt Buffy now. Before everyone starts complaining, there's going to be a Buffy-centric sequel, so don't panic.
To the Angel Mobile, away!
*************************************************************************************
Well, this is not for real
Afraid to feel
I just hit the floor
Don't ask for more
Spike didn't have to come up for air, but Buffy did. They parted, she gasped a moment, and then picked right up where they left off.
They really needed to stop making out just anywhere and everywhere. Especially while standing up. They were about to knock each other over, and it wouldn't have been the first time.
Buffy wound her arms around Spike's neck, and all rational thought, or what she had left of it, was lost to his kisses. She had never in her life been kissed like he kissed her. It was hot and cold, pain and pleasure, want and need all wrapped up.
She knew she was crazy for doing this, knew it with every fiber of her being. It was against everything that - well, it was just against *everything*. Slayer rules, the laws of God, man, and nature...
And yet, she couldn't leave him alone now. He was all she had, for all the wrong reasons.
Spike knew what was going on, but as much as he'd been wanting this, he couldn't help himself. He hated himself for it every minute of the day and night. Buffy was using him and he was letting her.
In a way he was using her, too. Yes, he loved her more anything, but this was the only way he could get near her. It might not have been right, but seldom did a desperate man do the right thing.
Seldom did Spike do the right thing.
Until he met Buffy Anne Summers, that is. He'd hardly wanted to do anything but the right thing since he'd fallen for her. Torture, sticking around when he could've left, taking care of Dawn. All of that was completely against his demon.
It had been weeks, but he finally came to his senses, took Buffy by the shoulders, and set her away from him.
"No, no more," he said, looking at her puzzled expression. Then he simply turned to walk away.
"Spike..." Buffy called and ran after him. She laid a hand on his arm. "What's wrong?"
How could she ask him that?
Spike turned slightly to face her.
"You said it yourself before all this started, Buffy. It isn't real. At least not as far as you're concerned. I would give you anything, but I can't take anything from you that's not real."
He turned from her again and continued down the street. That damn spell had worn off long ago, and he was still telling the bloody truth. He could feel Buffy's eyes on him as he walked away.
Back to his crypt, back to his torment.
He'd tried to be there for her, but it just wasn't enough anymore. He had finally hit bottom emotionally.
I'm wasting my time
I'm wasting my time
Back in his tomb, Spike was halfway through his first bottle of bourbon. The second was on the floor beside him.
He'd drink, curse Buffy, drink, curse the day he ever met Buffy, and drink some more.
There was no real getting anywhere with her, God knows he tried. All he'd done was show his love and devotion time and time again, and she'd put him off just as many times.
He was good enough to be her boy toy, but nothing more.
There were thousands of other places he could be, and yet here he was stuck in Sunnydale. Unable to hunt, unable to kill, unable to stop loving that bloody frustrating Slayer, no matter what she did to him.
He just couldn't do it anymore. She wanted him, his kisses, and his bed, but not because it was him. She was running and hiding from everything by being with him.
Being with him wasn't real to her. It was escape. Buffy would suffer through the day, patrol, and come to him at night. She'd forget things, for awhile, and then it would start all over.
It was a vicious, vicious cycle, and Spike, of all people, had to be the one to put a stop to it.
Her friends, the only support she'd ever had, were falling apart around her. Dawn, though she meant well, didn't know how to help her. Giles was gone.
Spike sighed. Now he was starting to sympathize with her, and he couldn't do that. He was supposed to be angry with her, not a guest at her pity party. Which is exactly the way she would want things.
He stood up and gripped the now empty bottle so hard that it shattered in his hand. He broke it and dropped it so fast it barely hurt him, and he moved on to the next bottle of liquor.
As he took the first drink, he heard his door squeak. He didn't even have to turn around to know who it was.
"What are you doing here?" he asked bitterly.
Buffy hadn't quite been prepared for that tone.
"I, I, uh... You left... So suddenly..."
"That I did," he replied distantly.
"I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
You can't stop the feeling
There is no reason
Spike turned around slowly, surveying her with narrowed eyes.
"No you didn't, Buffy."
A small frown creased her forehead. "What?"
He took a step toward her, then another. Slowly, deliberately, trying to intimidate the Slayer, if only just a little bit.
Buffy stood her ground, worried just a little, but trying not to let it show.
"You don't give a damn how *I* feel," he said, his voice dangerously low.
"I-" Buffy started, but he grabbed her by the arms and pushed her up against the wall.
He held her there, looking into her now huge hazel eyes, unblinking.
"I really don't want to hear anymore lame ass excuses, okay? I have tried to be there for you ever since you came back, before that even, and I thought you were finally learning to trust me. Turns out you just couldn't handle everything that was happening, so you learned to use me instead," he sneered.
Buffy shook her head, not quite comprehending what he said. It must be the truth, she thought. She always did have a hard time with that.
"Look, Spike, I think we need to talk," she barely managed to blurt out.
Dejected, he let her arms go abruptly, his hands falling to his sides. He didn't step away, just stood there in front of her, staring.
"Now you want to talk, do ya, luv? I'd say it's far too late for that. Maybe you should've thought of talking three or four weeks ago."
Buffy was suddenly very interested in the floor.
"I realize what I've been doing, Spike. I do."
That brought the emotion back to his voice.
"I wish I could believe that, Buffy, but I don't think you do realize.
"I love you. I'm *in* love with you. You know that, and I know that, it's no secret. But see, I'm just a lowly vampire to you still, and that's how you'll always think of me. I'm chipped, sure, so you couldn't possibly have had anything to do with who I am now."
Buffy's eyes were filling up with tears.
"Did you know me three years ago?" Spike asked.
"Yes."
"Is that who I am now?"
"I - I don't think so."
Spike rolled his eyes and sighed. "You don't think so."
He spun around and walked to the other side of the room.
"Well, I'll tell you this now, Slayer. If I still had any desire to kill you, I can guarantee you'd be dead. Again. Nothing would stop me. But it's kinda been there, done that at this point, and just let me say, it didn't really do anything for me.
"You know I can hurt you, you know I can kill you. But I haven't, and I wouldn't. So what is the deal, Buffy?"
All of the sudden her defiant side, the one that wouldn't let her tell him how she really felt, kicked in. She wasn't going to grovel to him anymore, no matter what she'd done.
"Apparently there is no deal, Spike. If I could take back every minute of the last month, I would," she said with venom.
That hardly affected Spike now. Buffy had already done too much else for that to hurt.
"Well, again, that's where you and I are completely different. Because even though it was all make believe, to you anyway, it's all I had. It's all I wanted. So you can leave, and you can stay away, but I'll have that. My feelings for you won't stop just because you don't have any feelings at all."
Buffy swallowed hard. Why did he always have to be so blunt? So straightforward with his feelings?
And who was he to stand there and tell her she didn't have any feelings?
At her non-response, Spike took a deep breath and rolled his eyes.
"Look, Buffy, just do both of us a favor and get out."
She barely gave him another look before she turned and did as he said, leaving him to slump down on the floor and drink himself into a Buffy-free oblivion.
The End