"Anytime"
by Lazuli
Lazuli56@aol.com
Genre: Drama/Romance
Rating: PG-13
Summary: While Spike thinks about Buffy, his musings are interrupted by the grief-stricken Slayer. Slightly B/S.
Disclamer: I am in no way associated with Joss Whedon, whom I still believe is THE coolest man alive. Who else could have created a show like this? And who else could have created the character of Spike, probably one of the most incredible personas television has ever seen. Yes, he's that good. I don't own Buffy or Spike, because they are made and lovingly crafted by two amazing actors, Sarah Michelle Gellar, and James Marsters. I absolutely adore them, and I LOVE THIS SHOW!!!
"Anytime"
A bloody toy. That's all I am to her. That's all I ever was to her.
Before the chip, we had fun. Oh, yes, did we have fun. Back then, she was MY toy, and she didn't even know it. I used to dream about how I'd kill her every day, how we'd play till we both couldn't take it any more, till we both hit the ground, panting, groaning, moaning like we'd just had the life sucked out of us. We'd play, all right, 'Till Death Do Us Part. Death Do Us Part, now that's an ironic choice of words to be used, at least now. Then, all I wanted to do was sink my fangs into her neck and drink her dry. Now, I still want to bite her, but this time, I want her to BEG for it. I want her to SCREAM for it, beat my chest until I derived from her the ultimate pleasure for a vampire: to drink from the Slayer.
They all don't see it, her friends. Her Mum, maybe saw it, God rest her angelic soul in Heaven. The little one, definitely. They don't see that under all this...this...emotion , the good side is still there, still struggling to be freed again. I have to admit, I fought against that wanker William, I did. I could feel him rising in me, pushing against the demon. Evidently, he's gotten stronger over the years, because now the demon is losing, and I can sense the two sides of me merging. For her. For Buffy Summers, I am allowing the demon which I worshipped to take a backseat to the one thing I was sure I'd lost. My heart.
It isn't easy to do this, you know. And I really don't blame her for acting the way she is, all repulsive and what not. I've tried to kill her so many times, I've lost count. But that was I acted, because that is who I am. For the rest of my undead life, or however long she chooses to go without staking me, I will act like that. I have accepted the fact that we can never have a normal relationship, because I WILL do things that will piss her off. If she thinks it's gonna be another "Stars-in-our-eyes-lovey-dovey" Nancy Boy affair, she's dead wrong. Because if one day, she chooses to say "Yes" instead of "No", I am going to take her on the ride of her life. Our relationship will be centered in love, but not only the soulful, icky, mushy kind, ours will be a passionate roller coaster which will never stop. I will take her out of this miserable, moody town, and bring her to a place where her mind will be forever stimulated. I'll show her things she's never seen before, go to a foreign country, or perhaps to a tropic paradise. I think she's more of the island type, because she exudes light. Hell, look at her name, Summers. If that isn't symbolism, I don't know what is. That's what I'd do, take her to somewhere like Jamaica, or Aruba. Let her bask in the sunlight while I watched from the inside, and have her cavort herself, daring me to burn myself by running out and catching her. I'd burn, all right. I burn now. And at night, I would show her love on the sand, under the moonlight. She would be my Sun.
All of a sudden, I felt a burning sensation at my fingertips. My cigarette had reached the end of it's journey, and that meant my musing period was done. I leaned over and flicked the stub off into the bushes below. Leaning on my back, I stared up at the sky from my perch on top of my crypt. There was so much more out there, and people who could fix me, take me away from this electrical prison that is my brain. But still, she keeps me here. And even now, in her grief over losing her mother, I felt I had to be there for her, though I was probably the last person she wanted to see. I had truly liked Joyce, and was saddened by her death. Her departure was half the reason I wanted Buffy to leave with me, so she could get out of the depression and learn to shine again. No one understood what it was like being totally alone all of a sudden, not sure of what was going to happen to you. No one except me.
Footsteps sounded below. I held my breath, thinking it was some demon who decided to take his luck against me, or Harmony wanting to stick some more pain into my gut for leaving her. They didn't sound like either. Instead, they sounded as if they were dragging, as if...they were lost. I swung around and peered out into the graveyard.
Buffy.
"Oh, God," I said under my breath, shocked. She looked like a mess. Her hair was mussed, she hadn't changed out of the clothes I saw her in yesterday, and her tears had made tracks of mascara down her cheeks. She was stumbling towards my crypt, speaking in a low voice to herself, occasionally laughing out loud. Her eyes were wide-eyed, and wild, and kept darting around. And, to make matters worse...she had a stake in her hand. I slid further back, hoping she didn't see me, but immediately slid forward again, curious to why she was here. I hoped she didn't have anything planned that involved me and the end of Mr. Pointy.
"Spiiiiiiike...", I heard her chant, "Oh, Spikey, come on out!" I shut my eyes, berating myself for making this stupid decision, and vowing not to say anything to upset her, then swung over the side to land directly in front of her. Buffy was momentarily surprised, but soon that shaky, unstable grin returned. I looked at her warily, every part of me on guard, ready to move in a heartbeat if she tried to stake me.
"There you are," she cooed, as if a mother to a child, then twirled her stake in her fingertips, "I've been looking all over for you!" Her eyes darted all around, as if expecting an attack by a thousand warriors any second. Paranoia oozed from her.
"Buffy," I spoke to her gently, "go home, you shouldn't be out here. You should be with your sister, your friends..." I was cut off by a harsh laugh.
"And listen to more of their crying, more of their pity," she said loudly, now shifting her weight from side to side. She wanted to fight, I read it in her eyes. She wanted to get this tension and sadness out of her system. And chip or no chip, if this made her feel even a tiny bit better, I was going to fight with her.
"You have to mourn," I responded, slightly rocking on the balls of my heels, stretching them out like I always did before a battle. Buffy recognized this familiar warm-up, and slowly started to rub her hands, preparing them for hard contact.
"You're absolutely right, of course," she snapped, "I need to mourn, I need to get this all out of me." She stretched her arms over her head, and I knew it was time. All she had to do was deliver the first shot.
"And what better way," she continued, "than to beat up on my ole pal Spike? Even though," she took off her leather jacket, revealing one of those tight little shirts she knew I loved so much, and threw it over a nearby headstone. Something stirred in me. I didn't want to fight, but oh yes, at the same time, I was ready for it. She wasn't the only thing that needed to let something out, though it differed greatly...
"If you say so, luv," I took off my own duster, and tossed it over hers. She took exception to it, and right when I straightened up, Buffy hit me with all her strength. I went flying into the door, banging my head. She laughed.
"That's all you got?" She taunted. I tried to suppress a sadistic smile coming out, by no avail. It enraged her, and she came after me, yelling like a barbarian. I jumped over her, lighting quick, and caught her in the back of her head with my foot. Shocks of agony went through my body, and I fell to the ground. Shaking it out of me, I decided on a new strategy: tire her out. Buffy got up off the ground, and started punching and kicking me. I was able to block and avoid most of the attacks, but she still got in a couple of good ones. She was getting frustrated at me not returning her blows, and they began to get more violent, but less well-placed. Now she was just flailing all over me, until I could distinguish sobbing coming through all that angry screaming. I looked down at her, and her slight black streaks were dripping all over her skin. As she continued her weak assault, I began to shush her, and tell her to stop.
"DAMN IT!" She finally screamed, and fell to the ground, weeping. I stood over her, unsure of what I should do. I might be in love with her, but I sure as hell didn't know anything about comforting. Buffy pounded the ground at my feet, swearing like I didn't think her capable of. At me, at her friends, at Glory, at Riley, at God, and mostly, at her mother.
"Stupid," she wailed, tearing up the grass and shredding it in her fingers, "stupid, stupid, stupid. Can save the world, but can't save your own mother. What kind of protector is that? I'm nothing..." she turned her tear-streaked face up to me, "I'm nothing without her, Spike. When I needed someone to talk to, she was there. When I needed a place to go, she was there. It didn't matter if it was 3 in the morning, if I was sad, then she would listen. How can I go on? And Dawn..." she dissolved again. I knelt to my feet, and I knew I was crying, too. There's something that happens when the person you love more than anything else in the world is in pain, a chord is struck in your heart that makes you want to be the one to bear it all for them. Reaching out, I started to gently stroke her hair.
"You..." I had to start again, for my bleedin' throat got choked up, "you are everything." She looked at me, confused, tears still falling. I bit my lip, and searched for the right words.
"You are the reason she lived, Buffy. You are the reason she got up in the morning and went to bed at night. It's not only because she loved you, but because she lived you. She lived inside of you, every moment of the day. There wasn't one night in her mind that she didn't thank God for giving her such a beautiful daughter, and such a gifted one, too. When she found out you were the Slayer, she even loved you more. For a parent to discover that their daughter might not live beyond her 25th birthday, I can't imagine the shock and horror your mother went through." Buffy's face scrunched up, and I pulled her into my lap, rocking her.
"Don't blame God for taking her away from you, don't blame anyone. What you have to realize, is that these things are beyond our power, and that something in her body was tired of fighting. Once she knew you were in good hands, and that Dawn was protected, I think she resigned to the fact she was going to die."
"You mean," Buffy whispered softly, "she knew? She knew she was going to die?" I nodded.
"Some sick people have a way of knowing their time on Earth is short. She lived a happy life, with one remarkable daughter, and one amazing young girl who entered her life. She had friends, people who loved her, and from what I heard, a burgeoning relationship," Buffy smiled a little at that, "If you asked me, I think she died the happiest woman alive."
The Slayer quieted at that last remark. I knew she was thinking it over, and I prayed to God she agreed. At last, she pulled away, staring at me. I suddenly became aware of the situation before me; I was sitting on the ground in the middle of a graveyard, my mortal enemy-turned-love of my life a few feet away, and the stars were twinkling over our heads. Looking up, I suddenly thought of something Drusilla had said, about counting the stars.
"When Dru and I first came here," I remembered aloud, still staring at the sky, "I found her outside once. She said she was going to count all the stars, which of course was impossible. I wonder if Joyce is there, now. I wonder if she's watching over us, sort of like a guardian angel." I returned my gaze to Buffy. A look of wonder eclipsed her face.
"How do you do it?" She whispered, "how do you make me forget about anything bad in my life, and turn it into something so incredibly beautiful?"
"Because a woman like you shouldn't have pain and suffering," I dared to answer. She was taken aback. I don't think she was planning on me addressing my recent love confession.
"Because a woman like you should never feel the evils of the world, something which I am, I'm ashamed to admit. If I can make things beautiful for you, then that's all I ever need in life. You deserve so much more than this, Buffy." I waved my hand around the desolate graveyard. Her eyes followed, and she took it in.
"But this is what I was born for," she answered softly, "This is my purpose in life." I jumped to my feet. I was suddenly angry at her.
"Who cares what those bloody asses in Britain want?" I exclaimed vehemently, pacing, "Let me bring you away from all this! If you'd just listen to me, please..." I stopped, and took her hand. I was not going to leave until I got an answer.
Buffy gazed at our joined hands. Then she looked up at me.
"I'm sorry," she said, "but I can't do this. Not now." I sighed, but I understood. Her mother had just died, I couldn't take her out of Sunnydale just yet. Plus, with the threat of Glory and the protection of Dawn...
She rose to her feet. I helped her up, then I noticed our hands were gripping the other tightly.
"Anytime you need me," I offered. It was time for her to go. This discussion would wait until she had calmed down, perhaps killed herself a god.
"Yes," she responded, "anytime." Then she slid her hand out from my furtive embrace, and walked away. I stood there, helpless to do anything, since the sun was bound to come up any second. I watched her back grow smaller, then shaking my head, turned to go back into my crypt.
"Spike!" I heard her call out. I spun around. She stood at the edge of the cemetery, smiling her first real smile I suspected in a few days. I smiled back, and waved.
"Thank you," She yelled to me, and then in a blink, she was gone. I stood there, basking in the glow of her smile, my own mouth turning upwards.
Anytime.
Phew, I'm done! And the approximate time is....11:26! I wrote this in one day! Note to self: never write emotional fic at so late night! :) Anyway, please read and review, and if you like, send me email! Yes, that would make me veeerrry happy! Buffy/Spike forever!