Buffy sat on the couch, sipping a cup of tea. It was late and she couldn't
sleep. Willow was upstairs, so was Dawnie. Xander and Anya had long since
gone home. Spike was who knows where, probably somewhere stirring up
trouble. Buffy sighed inwardly. She really didn't want to be thinking of
Spike. That whole *issue* was sometimes too much for her. It's not an
*issue* her mind taunted-it's mind blowing sex that you love because it's
the only time you actually feel. The once almighty Slayer-savior of the
world, reduced to screwing a soulless vampire just to get an emotional
high.
How the mighty have fallen….
Buffy was almost glad she was the only one up. She couldn't take their constant questions, hovering, pleads for her to become bright, bouncy Buffy- that perky girl they all knew and loved.
That girl was dead the moment I sent Angel to hell, the moment my mother died and I couldn't stop it-me, who's stopped how many Apocalypses now? 5? And I couldn't save my own mother. How pathetic of me. That girl was dead the minute I clawed my way out of my own grave. Now I'm just a shell, Buffy thought. If death is my *gift* how long until I get to enjoy it? How long until I'm at peace? It's just so hard…
Buffy suddenly longed for Angel with a ferocity that surprised her. She wanted to be in his arms, the only place she ever felt safe, felt happy. But that ship has long since sailed. He loves Cordelia now, Buffy reminded herself. Not me. He left me…. Left me when I needed him the most. And he never looked back.
The annoying rational part of her brain told her that she had left him too. She had had a choice to make, and she had made it. She chose Riley over Angel, and now she would have to live with that decision. Back then it had seemed so easy, everything had seemed so clear. Yet now she would give up anything and everything to hear his voice again.
Almost without thinking about it, she walked over to the phone and dialed, not caring that it was two in the morning, that she could very well be waking up the whole hotel. All she wanted was to hear his voice. After the seventh ring, someone picked up.
"Hello?" a deep, sensuously smooth voice asked. A voice that always made Buffy feel as if she was the most important person in the world, as if nothing would ever happen to her. Angel's voice.
"Hello?" he asked again. Buffy was afraid if she didn't say something she would start sobbing. She didn't know just hearing his voice would affect her so much. The tears started to flow then, against her will. Soon she was all out hysterical.
"Who is this?" Angel asked, now with worry in his voice. "Cordy is that you?" "Hello?"
Buffy put the phone down softly with a strangled sob. Grabbing her coat, she shut the door softly behind her, knowing that she needed to get out, also knowing with disgust that she would head to Spike's crypt, like a junkie who needed their next fix. She started to run, not caring how she must look-disheveled blond hair, puffy eyes, pink pajama bottoms, tiny Sunnydale U tank, brown trench coat. She didn't stop running until she had reached the crypt, and was pounding on the door. Within a minute Spike had thrown it open, knife in hand. Buffy threw herself into his arms and sobbed, knowing that she was weak, that it was easier just to give in…but no longer caring.
She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. "I need to not feel, Spike. Make me not feel dammit! Please!" Some part of her couldn't believe she was actually begging Spike to fuck her.
He wrapped her in his arms, a smirk on his face as he carried her inside, and kicked the door shut behind him. The way he rationalized their odd relationship was that they were each getting what they wanted-he got to pretend that the Slayer actually loved him and wanted to be with him, not that bugger Angel, and she got to "feel" as she put it. But even Spike knew that things couldn't keep going on the way they were. It would kill him, and her too…
*I'm trying to figure out where to go with this next. Please leave some reviews if you'd like me to continue. Thanks! *
How the mighty have fallen….
Buffy was almost glad she was the only one up. She couldn't take their constant questions, hovering, pleads for her to become bright, bouncy Buffy- that perky girl they all knew and loved.
That girl was dead the moment I sent Angel to hell, the moment my mother died and I couldn't stop it-me, who's stopped how many Apocalypses now? 5? And I couldn't save my own mother. How pathetic of me. That girl was dead the minute I clawed my way out of my own grave. Now I'm just a shell, Buffy thought. If death is my *gift* how long until I get to enjoy it? How long until I'm at peace? It's just so hard…
Buffy suddenly longed for Angel with a ferocity that surprised her. She wanted to be in his arms, the only place she ever felt safe, felt happy. But that ship has long since sailed. He loves Cordelia now, Buffy reminded herself. Not me. He left me…. Left me when I needed him the most. And he never looked back.
The annoying rational part of her brain told her that she had left him too. She had had a choice to make, and she had made it. She chose Riley over Angel, and now she would have to live with that decision. Back then it had seemed so easy, everything had seemed so clear. Yet now she would give up anything and everything to hear his voice again.
Almost without thinking about it, she walked over to the phone and dialed, not caring that it was two in the morning, that she could very well be waking up the whole hotel. All she wanted was to hear his voice. After the seventh ring, someone picked up.
"Hello?" a deep, sensuously smooth voice asked. A voice that always made Buffy feel as if she was the most important person in the world, as if nothing would ever happen to her. Angel's voice.
"Hello?" he asked again. Buffy was afraid if she didn't say something she would start sobbing. She didn't know just hearing his voice would affect her so much. The tears started to flow then, against her will. Soon she was all out hysterical.
"Who is this?" Angel asked, now with worry in his voice. "Cordy is that you?" "Hello?"
Buffy put the phone down softly with a strangled sob. Grabbing her coat, she shut the door softly behind her, knowing that she needed to get out, also knowing with disgust that she would head to Spike's crypt, like a junkie who needed their next fix. She started to run, not caring how she must look-disheveled blond hair, puffy eyes, pink pajama bottoms, tiny Sunnydale U tank, brown trench coat. She didn't stop running until she had reached the crypt, and was pounding on the door. Within a minute Spike had thrown it open, knife in hand. Buffy threw herself into his arms and sobbed, knowing that she was weak, that it was easier just to give in…but no longer caring.
She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. "I need to not feel, Spike. Make me not feel dammit! Please!" Some part of her couldn't believe she was actually begging Spike to fuck her.
He wrapped her in his arms, a smirk on his face as he carried her inside, and kicked the door shut behind him. The way he rationalized their odd relationship was that they were each getting what they wanted-he got to pretend that the Slayer actually loved him and wanted to be with him, not that bugger Angel, and she got to "feel" as she put it. But even Spike knew that things couldn't keep going on the way they were. It would kill him, and her too…
*I'm trying to figure out where to go with this next. Please leave some reviews if you'd like me to continue. Thanks! *
