~ E n d i n g ~ A n ~ E t e r n i t y ~
Summary: Set after "Crush" Buffy's POV. It's seven years after that episode took place, and Buffy thinks about what she has lost... with a surprise coming her way.
Disclaimer: All of the characters belong to the great Jossificus, he who makes the birds sing and the lowliest of insects to dance with great joy.
Rating: PG-13 (nothing you wouldn't see on the show)
Spoilers: Up to "Crush" (Season 5)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I closed the dishwasher and heard the cycle start. There were only enough dishes in there for one person.
Me.
I cook for only one person these days. No Mom. No Dawn. No one but me.
Sometimes, I think about that day, seven years ago, when I was a bitch. When I let my pride stand in the way and ruin my life.
"...Tell me someday... maybe, there's a chance."
"Spike... the only chance you had with me was when I was unconscious."
When a person has been stubborn since the first day you met, you generally expect them to stay that way. That if you tell someone to leave, they'll really stay. Because they're stubborn.
"I want you out. I want you out of this town, I want you off this planet. You don't come near me, my friends, or my family again. Ever. Understand?"
Life throws curveballs. It changes people when you don't want them to change. When you think they'll continue being a stubborn pain in the ass.
He did as I asked.
I went to his crypt two days later, ready to apologize and tell him how I really felt. How much I loved him and wanted him to hold me and love me back. How much I needed him.
"I hate you."
"And I'm all you've got."
He was gone.
All that was left in the crypt was a gold chain that I had only seen him wear once or twice. It was left casually on the sacrophagus where he used to lie, either resting or recuperating from injuries.
"Oh, it's the Slayer. For a second there, I was worried."
Memories. Painful, horrible memories. They cruelly sneak up and wreck my state of mind. I think I'm healing, then BAM! I'll think of his cocky smirk. His sharp cheekbones. His cobalt eyes.
I kept the chain. I put it on the second I found it, and I haven't removed it since. I wear it everywhere I go. In the shower, to bed. It is the only visible reminder I have of him. I think that's the way he wanted it. To taunt me with one little thing, one little reminder.
It was always like him. To taunt me, hit when I was down. Get me where he knew I was vulnerable.
"Wonder what you did wrong. Too strong, maybe? Did you bruise the boy? Whatever. Guess you weren't worth a second go. Seems someone once told me as much. Who was that? Oh, yeah. Angel."
I wouldn't have been too strong for him, that's for sure. If anything, he would have been the stronger one. He would have given me welts all over, and I would have asked for every single one. I would have screamed his name as he sank his his cool, glistening fangs deep into the soft flesh of my throat, his tongue dancing all over my skin..
But I can't have that now. I was cruel to him, harsh and hateful. I told him to get lost, and he did. Whether he did it that night or right before I arrived, I don't know.
He just left. Left me.
Just like all the others.
I stepped in the shower and turned on the scorching water. I began the normal process of putting the dam washcloth on my body, wishing that instead of a pitiful rag, it was his hands, roaming all over, caressing me with their gentle touch.
How I long to see him again. To hear his voice once again, to look into his eyes and see the love there.
"You can't tell me there isn't anything there between you and me. I know you feel something."
"It's called revulsion. And whatever you think you're feeling, it isn't love. You can't love, not without a soul."
There isn't a night that goes by without me thinking of that cold February evening, of all the things that took place. Harsh and tender words that were said.
I placed my washcloth on the rack and prepared to get out. But when I started to pull on the curtain, I caught a whiff of something.
Old leather. Alcohol. Smoke.
Him.
I sensed someone in the house. I tried not to get my hopes up, because was probably just my imagination. But it was very strong.
I froze, wondering what I should do. Finally, I decided that it wouldn't hurt to just call for him. I had, after all, done so many times.
"Spike? Are ya here? Spike?"
"Spike?"
There was no answer. Only the dripping of the faucet greeted me. Disappointed, I pulled the curtain all the way and stepped out. Wrapping the towel around me, I walked to the mirror and began to blow dry my hair. Still, I culdn't help but imgaine that he was standing behind me, watching with that gaze.
I walked into my bedroom and dropped the towel on the floor. There was no one else in the house, anyway, so it didn't matter if I walked around with nothing on.
But instead of wandering around the house like I usually did, I just went to bed. I wasn't in the mood to remeber the horrible things that had taken place within those very rooms.
To remember seeing my mother, lying on her bed, blood all over the sheets.
To remember holding a sobbing Dawn close, only to feel her change against my chest.
To remember looking into the face of my sister, only to find a demon.
To remember a long fight, finally ending with a chair leg in her heart, the dust lying over everything.
To remember watching them take my mother out of the house, asking if I knew how it had happened while I just sat there, numb all over.
To remember that he wasn't there, to help in only the way he could.
But I wasn't in the mood for any reminiscing. I just wanted to fall asleep in bed. But I still couldn't forget the experience in the bathroom.
*Dream Sequence*
He ran to get the door before I could open it and pulled it, waiting.
I stared at it, then at him in awe. "What are you doing?" I demanded.
He looked lost at first, then tried to cover. "I... it was just..." He then scoffed. "I wasn't thinking."
I wasn't fooled. "What is this?"
He rolled his eyes, then slammed the door shut. "Oh, don't get your knickers twisted! I was just-"
"What... is this?" I repeated, my voice louder. He looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue.
"The late night stakeout... the bogus suspects... the flask... is this a date?"
I had hit it right on the dollar, but he tried to hide it. "A d... please! A date! You are completely off your bird! I mean..."
Then he gave himself away.
"Do you want it ot be?"
A look of disgust washed over me. "Oh, my God," I moaned, walking away from him. "Oh, no. No, no."
Realizing that he had made a possibly fatal mistake, he turned to find me with my back to him.
"Are you... out of your mind!?" I exclaimed, my hands shaking.
"It's not so unusual," he replied. I stared at him, disbelieving.
"Two people... in the workplace... feelings develop," he continued, stalking slowly towards me.
I shook my head vigorously. "No! No, feelings do not exist! No feelings!"
"You can't deny it," he told me. "There's something between us."
"Loathing," I tried. "Disgust!"
"Heat," he argued. "Desire."
"Spike, please, you're a vampire."
"Angel was a vampire," he reminded me. My eyes widened at the sound of my former love's name, but I stood my ground. "Angel was good!"
He finally reached me and stood up straight, dignified. "And I can be, too. I've changed, Buffy."
"What, that chip in your head? That isn't change," I informed him. "That's just holding you back. You're like a serial killer in prison!"
"Women marry 'em all the time!" he said without thinking. Then, realizing what he had said, he added quickly, "But I'm not like that. Something's happening to me. I can't stop thinking about you." I groaned, but he continued. "And if it means turning my back on the whole evil thing-"
"You don't know what you mean! You don't know what feelings are!"
He began to get upset. "I damn well do! I lie awake every night!"
"You sleep during the day!" I pointed out harshly.
"Yeah, but..." He calmed down, trying not to lose his patience. "You are missing the point. This is real here." Then, gathering his courage, he began. "I... love y-"
"DON'T!" I exclaimed, raising my hand. "Don't say it." I gave him a defiant glare. "I'm going." I then walked away.
He sighed. "Oh, come on, we need to talk."
"We don't need to do anything!" I screamed, whirling back around. My eyes were flashing with anger. "There is no we. Understand?" I turned and headed for the door.
"Buffy..." he called after me. I did not answer, but slammed the door shut behind me, leaving a very heartbroken vampire alone in the warehouse.
*End Dream Sequence*
I sat up in bed, breathing hard. Sweat glistened in tiny beads all over my body, which was shaking incredibly hard.The dream wasn't so much a nightmare, but more of a haunting memory that visited me almost every night. That one simple mistake that had changed my life.
Maybe, if he had stayed, it wouldd have been easier. I would have had someone to comfort me and reming\d me that he would always be there for me.
I felt the tears slide down my cheeks, not for the first time. I lied back down, clutching my sheets tight around me.
I knew I wouldn't go back to sleep. Not after that. I never could. So I just lied there.
After a while, I began to hear noises. Something moving downstairs. Probably some stray demon, looking to kill the Slayer.
After having that dream for at least the nine thousandth time, I decided that I was through. Whatever it was could have me. I closed my eyes and waited for it to find me, silently apologizing to Giles for giving up. But he would never come back. If in seven years he hadn't returned, he wasn't coming anytime soon. I began to play with the gold chain that rested on my chest.
I heard my door open, and I thought to myself, "This is it. My horrible excuse for a life is finally over."
It was a vampire, that I knew. But as it walked closer, a wave of feelings rushed over me, drowning me in them.
"I'm drownin' in you, Summers, I'm drownin' in you..."
The room filled with him.
I told myself that I was dreaming. It wasn't him. He was off in China, far, far away from me. I had to stop kidding myself.
But then I heard it. A sharp knife in my brain.
"Hello, cutie."
It was his voice, deep and rich, almost hypnotic. I heard it in my head every second of every painful day. But now it was everywhere, filling the air around me. My head exploded as fireworks shot off.
My eyes snapped open, ready to show me that my mind was being cruel, playing illusions that would give me a false sense of hope to be shattered to the ground like a crystalline statuette. But I saw him standing there. And he was very real.
The blonde hair that he kept bleached. The sharp, scythe-like high cheekbones that made his cheeks two sunken hollows. The cocky smirk that always danced upon his lips.
The long black leather duster that he wore wherever he went. The black nailpolish that was freshly applied. His all-black ensemble that was generally his trademark.
And his eyes...
The cobalt irises, surrounding the black as night pupils. Their stare that burned their embers deep down inside of me, past my flesh down itno my very soul. They knew exactly what I was thinking. And it was so easy to get lost in them.
I knew it was him. My eyes were not deceiving me, playing some cruel, sadistic mind game, tearing up my feelings, destroying my stable state of mind. They weren't driving me insane with desire. That was him.
"Spike?" I whimpered, my voice barely audible. His silence was deafening.
He advanced on me slowly with a long lost confidence. An arrogance that made him swagger with importance. Superiority.
"The one and only."
After seven years, my fantasies had finally come true. The vampire I had come to love had finally returned.
But there was something different about him. There was the cockiness and arrogance, but he wasn't the same. When I had last seen him...
He was kinder looking. His eyes were soft, full of hurt and compassion. Full of love. He was so vulnerable, so fragile.
Now, his eyes were cold. Glassy, but still piercing through me. He had the look of a predatory killer.
"Y-you're back," I managed to say.
"You know it."
At first, I thought he had come back to accept my apologies and stay with me. But then my hopes were shattered, just like I had thought I had prepared myself for.
"You know that I'm the Slayer of Slayers."
My heart sank. "But the chip..."
"Gone," was his casual reply. He didn't embelish on the thought, but let it hang in the tension.
I had been an idiot. To think that, after I had crushed him, he would come back and we could love each other to our hearts' desire.
He had gotten over the bitch that had treated him like dirt. And he was now intent on killing her.
But there was something he didn't know. Something I hadn't told anyone. That there was a reason for my not enjoying life like I used to, but walking through it like a zombie.
He walked to me slowly, then took his finger and gently traced it down my jawline. I made no movement. None at all.
His finger moved from my jawline to my collar bone, then back to my neck. Deep down inside of me, I was shivering, his touch stimulating orgasmic pleasure that not only hadn't been felt in years, but that I was sure he sensed. His touch was as gentle as I had ever imagined, as caressing as I had ever dreamed. And I wanted more.
"Spike..." I moaned, trying desperately to make him understand.
I instantly got reaction, though not the one I had hoped for. His hand was immediately around my neck, nearly crushing my windpipe with its tigt, firm grip.
"What did you think would happen, Slayer?" he taunted. "Did you think I would come back, ever the Slayer-whipped, lovesick puppy that I once was, and we'd have a nice little fairy-tale ending?"
The way he was looking at me hurt so much.
"So," I gasped. "Come back for your third?"
"Smart girl," he observed.
I summoned all of my strength and choked out, "You've already killed me, Spike."
His eyes widened in surprise. "What... what do you mean, Love?" He withdrew his hand, waiting.
"You killed me when you left. You don't know what happened after you left town."
He cocked his head to the side, his eyes now filled with concern. Much more comforting.
"Why don't you tell me, then."
I took a deep breath. "When I went to your crypt, two days later, all that was left behind was this," I began, indicating the chain that had been my life support all this time. "You were gone, and it felt like my soul was ripped from my body. I was incomplete.
"Then, a few years later, a vampire got ahold of Dawn and turned her. She... she killed my mother... then died herself when I had to get rid of her."
His eyes widened. "Buffy... if I had known..."
I continued. "Glory didn't leave until last year, when she finally learned that the Key no longer existed. But she..." I began to choke on the sobs that were rising in my throat. "She burned Willow and Tara, bound together. She claimed that they should die the old-fashioned way. Then she found a way to change Anya back into Anyanka, and she left Xander. He was hurt so badly, wanting to kill himself. I kept him alive by telling him that I knew what he was going through. And, it worked for a little while. But... Glory didn't leave any of my friends untouched. She prolonged his death horribly. She sucked some of his sanity from him, left him that way for a little while. Then... she killed him, right in front of me. And she did it slowly."
He exhaled slowly. "I hated the whelp, and even I dont't think he deserved that."
I could see that he was telling the truth. He really was mourning my friends. People that, for the most part, hadn't cared if he lived or not. "There was nothing you could have done."
"I could have stayed."
"I told you to go!"
It seemed like telling him the harsh reality made it truly real. I instantly began to cry.
He took me in his arms and held me tight while I sobbed into his chest. He stroked my hair softly and kissed the top of my head tenderly. He didn't say anything, but no words were needed. He loved me.
After I had calmed down a little, he whispered, "I won't ever leave you again, Pet. Never."
"Even if I tell you to?"
"Even if you tell me to."
The thought reassured me, and I snuggled back into his chest. I knew that I would be able to live life fully now. I wouldn't be afraid to befriend people, for fear of losing them. I would live each day like there was no tomorrow. And I would enjoy every moment that I had with my love, because there was no telling when it would all suddenly end.
And, if I was lucky, it wouldn't for a very, fery long time.
~ F i n ~
Summary: Set after "Crush" Buffy's POV. It's seven years after that episode took place, and Buffy thinks about what she has lost... with a surprise coming her way.
Disclaimer: All of the characters belong to the great Jossificus, he who makes the birds sing and the lowliest of insects to dance with great joy.
Rating: PG-13 (nothing you wouldn't see on the show)
Spoilers: Up to "Crush" (Season 5)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I closed the dishwasher and heard the cycle start. There were only enough dishes in there for one person.
Me.
I cook for only one person these days. No Mom. No Dawn. No one but me.
Sometimes, I think about that day, seven years ago, when I was a bitch. When I let my pride stand in the way and ruin my life.
"...Tell me someday... maybe, there's a chance."
"Spike... the only chance you had with me was when I was unconscious."
When a person has been stubborn since the first day you met, you generally expect them to stay that way. That if you tell someone to leave, they'll really stay. Because they're stubborn.
"I want you out. I want you out of this town, I want you off this planet. You don't come near me, my friends, or my family again. Ever. Understand?"
Life throws curveballs. It changes people when you don't want them to change. When you think they'll continue being a stubborn pain in the ass.
He did as I asked.
I went to his crypt two days later, ready to apologize and tell him how I really felt. How much I loved him and wanted him to hold me and love me back. How much I needed him.
"I hate you."
"And I'm all you've got."
He was gone.
All that was left in the crypt was a gold chain that I had only seen him wear once or twice. It was left casually on the sacrophagus where he used to lie, either resting or recuperating from injuries.
"Oh, it's the Slayer. For a second there, I was worried."
Memories. Painful, horrible memories. They cruelly sneak up and wreck my state of mind. I think I'm healing, then BAM! I'll think of his cocky smirk. His sharp cheekbones. His cobalt eyes.
I kept the chain. I put it on the second I found it, and I haven't removed it since. I wear it everywhere I go. In the shower, to bed. It is the only visible reminder I have of him. I think that's the way he wanted it. To taunt me with one little thing, one little reminder.
It was always like him. To taunt me, hit when I was down. Get me where he knew I was vulnerable.
"Wonder what you did wrong. Too strong, maybe? Did you bruise the boy? Whatever. Guess you weren't worth a second go. Seems someone once told me as much. Who was that? Oh, yeah. Angel."
I wouldn't have been too strong for him, that's for sure. If anything, he would have been the stronger one. He would have given me welts all over, and I would have asked for every single one. I would have screamed his name as he sank his his cool, glistening fangs deep into the soft flesh of my throat, his tongue dancing all over my skin..
But I can't have that now. I was cruel to him, harsh and hateful. I told him to get lost, and he did. Whether he did it that night or right before I arrived, I don't know.
He just left. Left me.
Just like all the others.
I stepped in the shower and turned on the scorching water. I began the normal process of putting the dam washcloth on my body, wishing that instead of a pitiful rag, it was his hands, roaming all over, caressing me with their gentle touch.
How I long to see him again. To hear his voice once again, to look into his eyes and see the love there.
"You can't tell me there isn't anything there between you and me. I know you feel something."
"It's called revulsion. And whatever you think you're feeling, it isn't love. You can't love, not without a soul."
There isn't a night that goes by without me thinking of that cold February evening, of all the things that took place. Harsh and tender words that were said.
I placed my washcloth on the rack and prepared to get out. But when I started to pull on the curtain, I caught a whiff of something.
Old leather. Alcohol. Smoke.
Him.
I sensed someone in the house. I tried not to get my hopes up, because was probably just my imagination. But it was very strong.
I froze, wondering what I should do. Finally, I decided that it wouldn't hurt to just call for him. I had, after all, done so many times.
"Spike? Are ya here? Spike?"
"Spike?"
There was no answer. Only the dripping of the faucet greeted me. Disappointed, I pulled the curtain all the way and stepped out. Wrapping the towel around me, I walked to the mirror and began to blow dry my hair. Still, I culdn't help but imgaine that he was standing behind me, watching with that gaze.
I walked into my bedroom and dropped the towel on the floor. There was no one else in the house, anyway, so it didn't matter if I walked around with nothing on.
But instead of wandering around the house like I usually did, I just went to bed. I wasn't in the mood to remeber the horrible things that had taken place within those very rooms.
To remember seeing my mother, lying on her bed, blood all over the sheets.
To remember holding a sobbing Dawn close, only to feel her change against my chest.
To remember looking into the face of my sister, only to find a demon.
To remember a long fight, finally ending with a chair leg in her heart, the dust lying over everything.
To remember watching them take my mother out of the house, asking if I knew how it had happened while I just sat there, numb all over.
To remember that he wasn't there, to help in only the way he could.
But I wasn't in the mood for any reminiscing. I just wanted to fall asleep in bed. But I still couldn't forget the experience in the bathroom.
*Dream Sequence*
He ran to get the door before I could open it and pulled it, waiting.
I stared at it, then at him in awe. "What are you doing?" I demanded.
He looked lost at first, then tried to cover. "I... it was just..." He then scoffed. "I wasn't thinking."
I wasn't fooled. "What is this?"
He rolled his eyes, then slammed the door shut. "Oh, don't get your knickers twisted! I was just-"
"What... is this?" I repeated, my voice louder. He looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue.
"The late night stakeout... the bogus suspects... the flask... is this a date?"
I had hit it right on the dollar, but he tried to hide it. "A d... please! A date! You are completely off your bird! I mean..."
Then he gave himself away.
"Do you want it ot be?"
A look of disgust washed over me. "Oh, my God," I moaned, walking away from him. "Oh, no. No, no."
Realizing that he had made a possibly fatal mistake, he turned to find me with my back to him.
"Are you... out of your mind!?" I exclaimed, my hands shaking.
"It's not so unusual," he replied. I stared at him, disbelieving.
"Two people... in the workplace... feelings develop," he continued, stalking slowly towards me.
I shook my head vigorously. "No! No, feelings do not exist! No feelings!"
"You can't deny it," he told me. "There's something between us."
"Loathing," I tried. "Disgust!"
"Heat," he argued. "Desire."
"Spike, please, you're a vampire."
"Angel was a vampire," he reminded me. My eyes widened at the sound of my former love's name, but I stood my ground. "Angel was good!"
He finally reached me and stood up straight, dignified. "And I can be, too. I've changed, Buffy."
"What, that chip in your head? That isn't change," I informed him. "That's just holding you back. You're like a serial killer in prison!"
"Women marry 'em all the time!" he said without thinking. Then, realizing what he had said, he added quickly, "But I'm not like that. Something's happening to me. I can't stop thinking about you." I groaned, but he continued. "And if it means turning my back on the whole evil thing-"
"You don't know what you mean! You don't know what feelings are!"
He began to get upset. "I damn well do! I lie awake every night!"
"You sleep during the day!" I pointed out harshly.
"Yeah, but..." He calmed down, trying not to lose his patience. "You are missing the point. This is real here." Then, gathering his courage, he began. "I... love y-"
"DON'T!" I exclaimed, raising my hand. "Don't say it." I gave him a defiant glare. "I'm going." I then walked away.
He sighed. "Oh, come on, we need to talk."
"We don't need to do anything!" I screamed, whirling back around. My eyes were flashing with anger. "There is no we. Understand?" I turned and headed for the door.
"Buffy..." he called after me. I did not answer, but slammed the door shut behind me, leaving a very heartbroken vampire alone in the warehouse.
*End Dream Sequence*
I sat up in bed, breathing hard. Sweat glistened in tiny beads all over my body, which was shaking incredibly hard.The dream wasn't so much a nightmare, but more of a haunting memory that visited me almost every night. That one simple mistake that had changed my life.
Maybe, if he had stayed, it wouldd have been easier. I would have had someone to comfort me and reming\d me that he would always be there for me.
I felt the tears slide down my cheeks, not for the first time. I lied back down, clutching my sheets tight around me.
I knew I wouldn't go back to sleep. Not after that. I never could. So I just lied there.
After a while, I began to hear noises. Something moving downstairs. Probably some stray demon, looking to kill the Slayer.
After having that dream for at least the nine thousandth time, I decided that I was through. Whatever it was could have me. I closed my eyes and waited for it to find me, silently apologizing to Giles for giving up. But he would never come back. If in seven years he hadn't returned, he wasn't coming anytime soon. I began to play with the gold chain that rested on my chest.
I heard my door open, and I thought to myself, "This is it. My horrible excuse for a life is finally over."
It was a vampire, that I knew. But as it walked closer, a wave of feelings rushed over me, drowning me in them.
"I'm drownin' in you, Summers, I'm drownin' in you..."
The room filled with him.
I told myself that I was dreaming. It wasn't him. He was off in China, far, far away from me. I had to stop kidding myself.
But then I heard it. A sharp knife in my brain.
"Hello, cutie."
It was his voice, deep and rich, almost hypnotic. I heard it in my head every second of every painful day. But now it was everywhere, filling the air around me. My head exploded as fireworks shot off.
My eyes snapped open, ready to show me that my mind was being cruel, playing illusions that would give me a false sense of hope to be shattered to the ground like a crystalline statuette. But I saw him standing there. And he was very real.
The blonde hair that he kept bleached. The sharp, scythe-like high cheekbones that made his cheeks two sunken hollows. The cocky smirk that always danced upon his lips.
The long black leather duster that he wore wherever he went. The black nailpolish that was freshly applied. His all-black ensemble that was generally his trademark.
And his eyes...
The cobalt irises, surrounding the black as night pupils. Their stare that burned their embers deep down inside of me, past my flesh down itno my very soul. They knew exactly what I was thinking. And it was so easy to get lost in them.
I knew it was him. My eyes were not deceiving me, playing some cruel, sadistic mind game, tearing up my feelings, destroying my stable state of mind. They weren't driving me insane with desire. That was him.
"Spike?" I whimpered, my voice barely audible. His silence was deafening.
He advanced on me slowly with a long lost confidence. An arrogance that made him swagger with importance. Superiority.
"The one and only."
After seven years, my fantasies had finally come true. The vampire I had come to love had finally returned.
But there was something different about him. There was the cockiness and arrogance, but he wasn't the same. When I had last seen him...
He was kinder looking. His eyes were soft, full of hurt and compassion. Full of love. He was so vulnerable, so fragile.
Now, his eyes were cold. Glassy, but still piercing through me. He had the look of a predatory killer.
"Y-you're back," I managed to say.
"You know it."
At first, I thought he had come back to accept my apologies and stay with me. But then my hopes were shattered, just like I had thought I had prepared myself for.
"You know that I'm the Slayer of Slayers."
My heart sank. "But the chip..."
"Gone," was his casual reply. He didn't embelish on the thought, but let it hang in the tension.
I had been an idiot. To think that, after I had crushed him, he would come back and we could love each other to our hearts' desire.
He had gotten over the bitch that had treated him like dirt. And he was now intent on killing her.
But there was something he didn't know. Something I hadn't told anyone. That there was a reason for my not enjoying life like I used to, but walking through it like a zombie.
He walked to me slowly, then took his finger and gently traced it down my jawline. I made no movement. None at all.
His finger moved from my jawline to my collar bone, then back to my neck. Deep down inside of me, I was shivering, his touch stimulating orgasmic pleasure that not only hadn't been felt in years, but that I was sure he sensed. His touch was as gentle as I had ever imagined, as caressing as I had ever dreamed. And I wanted more.
"Spike..." I moaned, trying desperately to make him understand.
I instantly got reaction, though not the one I had hoped for. His hand was immediately around my neck, nearly crushing my windpipe with its tigt, firm grip.
"What did you think would happen, Slayer?" he taunted. "Did you think I would come back, ever the Slayer-whipped, lovesick puppy that I once was, and we'd have a nice little fairy-tale ending?"
The way he was looking at me hurt so much.
"So," I gasped. "Come back for your third?"
"Smart girl," he observed.
I summoned all of my strength and choked out, "You've already killed me, Spike."
His eyes widened in surprise. "What... what do you mean, Love?" He withdrew his hand, waiting.
"You killed me when you left. You don't know what happened after you left town."
He cocked his head to the side, his eyes now filled with concern. Much more comforting.
"Why don't you tell me, then."
I took a deep breath. "When I went to your crypt, two days later, all that was left behind was this," I began, indicating the chain that had been my life support all this time. "You were gone, and it felt like my soul was ripped from my body. I was incomplete.
"Then, a few years later, a vampire got ahold of Dawn and turned her. She... she killed my mother... then died herself when I had to get rid of her."
His eyes widened. "Buffy... if I had known..."
I continued. "Glory didn't leave until last year, when she finally learned that the Key no longer existed. But she..." I began to choke on the sobs that were rising in my throat. "She burned Willow and Tara, bound together. She claimed that they should die the old-fashioned way. Then she found a way to change Anya back into Anyanka, and she left Xander. He was hurt so badly, wanting to kill himself. I kept him alive by telling him that I knew what he was going through. And, it worked for a little while. But... Glory didn't leave any of my friends untouched. She prolonged his death horribly. She sucked some of his sanity from him, left him that way for a little while. Then... she killed him, right in front of me. And she did it slowly."
He exhaled slowly. "I hated the whelp, and even I dont't think he deserved that."
I could see that he was telling the truth. He really was mourning my friends. People that, for the most part, hadn't cared if he lived or not. "There was nothing you could have done."
"I could have stayed."
"I told you to go!"
It seemed like telling him the harsh reality made it truly real. I instantly began to cry.
He took me in his arms and held me tight while I sobbed into his chest. He stroked my hair softly and kissed the top of my head tenderly. He didn't say anything, but no words were needed. He loved me.
After I had calmed down a little, he whispered, "I won't ever leave you again, Pet. Never."
"Even if I tell you to?"
"Even if you tell me to."
The thought reassured me, and I snuggled back into his chest. I knew that I would be able to live life fully now. I wouldn't be afraid to befriend people, for fear of losing them. I would live each day like there was no tomorrow. And I would enjoy every moment that I had with my love, because there was no telling when it would all suddenly end.
And, if I was lucky, it wouldn't for a very, fery long time.
~ F i n ~