Burn

By Dani Fleming

Author's Note: Ok, then. This is my first BtVS fic and perhaps I'll do another, perhaps I won't. However, while I consider myself a fan of the series, I'm not a know-when-everyone's-birthday-and-what-their-favorite-color-is fan, so please don't flame for possible discrepancies!

Plus, I know Caleb was really rotten bad, and Buffy would probably never think the following, but I just couldn't resist.

And after all,that's why it's called fanfiction, right?

One more thing: if there are any other B/C shippers out there, please write a few.....I just love the bad boys.

Disclaimer: BtVS and all the nice people are the intellectual property of Joss Whedon and the PTB of 20th Century Fox. No infringement implied or intended. All I own are two beta fish, and you really don't want them.



It's all about saving the world.

It's all about the important people in my life, no matter how complicated things can get.

At least that's what I keep telling myself. I mean, it really wouldn't look good on my resume to say I relished every fight, every battle, every piercing of my stake and the satisfying 'whoosh' as my prey falls to dust at my feet, now would it?

And I suppose it really wouldn't look good to say that though I loved taking down Caleb, I wouldn't have minded a few....private moments first.

How, even in the heat of our battle, I kept getting flashes of being thrown against the wall, his long, taut body pressed up against mine, all of those years spent piously keeping it in flooding out. Taking me hard and fast.

Just for me. Teaching each other a few things.

Whoa, where in the world did that come from? My guess is that Freud would have a field day, and who could blame the guy? I don't even understand, after all.

Feeling his strength, every time his hands touched me, every blow, made me burn. Maybe it was because we shared something none of my friends would ever understand. We were both undead, not like Angel, not like Spike. Ours was a different sort of communion. We died and came back against our will, both stronger than when we left the first time. Both on different sides, serving different masters; he The First, myself whatever good was left in the goddamn world.

Or maybe, I just needed to feel something other than the cold emptiness of death.

I awoke, but I could still feel the heat from his fingers, his body, his lips, on me.

Against me.

In me.

Something happened tonight, and it was a major victory for the world. And kind of a loss for me. But tomorrow's another day, and there will be more battles to fight, more victories to be had, hopefully.

And if I fail, we'll always have the afterlife.

Fin