A/N: This is just something that was bugging me and I needed to get it out. It's Buffy's thoughts on Spike and their relationship spanning from the first time they met until the series finale of 'Buffy'. Reviews make me happy, so if you're looking to stock up on some good karma, please tell me what you think.
I own nothing, blah, blah, blah, you know the usual.
I miss you. It took me a long time to admit it but I do. I miss that look you used to give me right before you did something you weren't supposed to. The feel of your skin under my fingers was like stone hidden under silk. The smell of you, so clean yet tinged with something darker was always enough to drive me over the edge. I touch the scars you left on me, savoring them. They're starting to heal over, to fade. When they're gone, I'll miss them almost as much as I miss you. They're the only reminder that you were real, that you weren't just some rapture filled nightmare. If I close my eyes, I can still see your black nails tracing every curve of my body, leaving me open and completely yours. It was about that unbearable need at first, for the both of us. The all consuming fire burning everything in its path. I was strong enough to put it out, I don't know how but I did, then you left and did the impossible for me. I think I've loved you since I first saw you. I didn't want to admit it. The screen of cynicism that covers everything in my world also covered my attraction to you until it was too late, until you were swimming and percolating in my blood like the most unbelievable drug. Everywhere your fingers touched me, left a poison that I never want to lose. Your eyes were probably the first thing I noticed about you, those eyes shining with the ferocity of a thousand cobalt stars. The only man that could ever get my knees to wobble just by looking at me. You made me weak, you know that? No, I don't think you do, you would have loved that, the idea that you held any kind of power over my strong, unshakable resolve. Even if I never told you, I craved that weakness; it made me feel like. . . . Christ, it just made me feel. It made me feel like something other than just a shell with human skin waiting to die. But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you? You weren't human and you could never die, living forever in a world that hates you. Everywhere you turn, another resentful gaze, another pair of eyes filled to the brim with hatred, but you still stay with them; even though you don't have to, you stay with them. I was the only one that loved you and you still left me. Better to be strong in a world full of people who hate you, than to be weak with the one person that loves you. I don't blame you, you did what you had to do, no, wait, I do blame you. This is all your fault, if it wasn't for you, I would still be comfortably ensconced in my web of cynicism and overall hatred for the entire human race but you came to me and you poisoned me, made me feel. I would hate you for it, if I could, but I can't. No matter how much I try and convince myself that I should hate you, I can't. I blame you and am afraid of you and know I shouldn't have trusted you, but I could never hate you. God knows why, you're too much like me and I have no problem hating myself but hating you is a whole other story. I wish I could, it would make me feel, just like you used to make me feel, but instead I just feel numb. I know you're out there somewhere, smiling that special smile of yours, eyes glinting. You're still watching me but you're not with me and that's the problem. I want you, more than I've ever wanted anything in my life; I want you even more now than I did when we together. Then, I wanted your flesh, a certain part of your flesh, but now I just want you, all of you. I don't care if it's wrong, I don't care if it's impossible, I just want you. You were the only one that ever made me feel like I was worth something, that despite all the obstacles, I would win because you always had my back. And because of this and so many other reasons, I miss you. I wonder if you miss me too.
