Title - Three Little Words
Author - Just Me
Email - justme@starflower.freeserve.co.uk
Distribution - If you really want to use it just ask
Summary: The story takes place after Crush. Buffy and Spike talk...well
actually Spike talks and Buffy scowls at him.
Disclaimer: Sadly these characters do not belong to me they belong to Joss
Whedon and the gang, not to be confused with Kool and the Gang. I merely
suggested to Spike that we play naked Scrabble and Buffy got all jealous and
insisted on coming too.
Dedication: I dedicate this to my fellow Sisters O' Smut, especially
Mandikins, Maggie and Digitalis without whom I would be alone in the gutter.
May your board Spikes always have Bed Hair :-)
Notes: This was my first ever fanfic so please be kind in your reviews as
I'm small and I bruise easily. Oh and please excuse my ballistic approach to
punctuation.
Thoughts are in * *
***
The dreams were starting to hurt now. In the beginning, when he'd thought
there was a glimmer of hope, he'd enjoyed them; actually relished closing his
eyes and falling asleep but now...now there was only pain. Gut wrenching
torture, the kind of pain that grips you by the throat and rips your heart from
your chest; the sorrow of waking and remembering that it's not real...she doesn't
love you back.
Spike couldn't believe it had come to this; the guy who'd bested two Slayers
was now on the receiving end. Sure she wasn't killing him in an actual, stake
through the heart, kind of way; in this fight words were her weapon, daggers
aiming straight for his heart and mind. Every time she told him to leave, her
face etched with revulsion, a little piece of him dusted and it was like dying
for a second time.
His death at the hands, or more appropriately fangs, of Drusilla had been
quick and relatively painless, almost pleasant. He'd felt his life force ebbing
away only to be replaced by something else, something stronger, the demon that
would control his every waking moment from now until eternity. Then there'd
been the shock of waking again but it didn't last long, soon the urge to feed
overtook you and later everything was simple, fight, feed and sleep. Now all he
had was fight.
Finally Spike gave up on the idea of sleep. Sitting up he swung his legs
over the side of the cold stone sarcophagus that served as his bed and pulled
on his leather duster. Perhaps a walk in the moonlight would help him clear his
head, maybe even kick a little demon ass while he was out; anything to tire him
out so he could fall into a deep Vampyric sleep and not dream of her. He paused
in the lee of the doorway and lit a cigarette, making a mental note to pick up
a new packet while he was out.
Striding out into the cemetery Spike immediately became aware of the sound
of a fight piercing the usual silence. *Be just my rotten luck if the one
night I decide to go for a midnight stroll the sodding Slayer showed up* he
thought.
Sure enough there she was slugging it out like a pro, which she was; he'd
been on the receiving end of her fist enough times to be familiar with the
force behind it. For a split second he considered going back to the crypt. *No,
what if she gets out of her depth?* It was possible, he considered, the guys
she was fighting were huge and there were a lot of them.
As he drew closer Spike recognised her attackers as vampires, big brooding
ones, the kind that had over-developed brows even before they put their game
faces on. It looked like this lot had come suited and booted as well; the clang
of steel against steel punctuated the night air. Spike noticed that Buffy only
had a small dagger clasped in her tiny fist, the stake she always carried was
pretty much ineffective given that she couldn't get close enough to use it.
He wished he'd had the foresight to bring a weapon, how long had he been in
Sunnydale and he still didn't keep in mind that round here it was best to be
prepared? *Bloody useless Boy Scout I would've been...oh well, I'll have to use
my fists*. He cast one final glance at Buffy before rushing headlong into battle.
Spike used every ounce of preternatural ability he had and started raining
blows on the largest vamp, luckily the bleach blonde vampire had the element of
surprise and the lumbering bloodsucker had no idea what hit him.
Minutes later Spike and Buffy were alone having made short work of the vamp
pack. Buffy stood with her back to him as she scanned the surrounding area for
any remaining members. Spike gazed at her in wonder, his senses picked up the
steady thrum of her heartbeat coupled with the heady scent of adrenaline
coursing through her veins. Taking a long drag on his cigarette, he leaned over
and tapped her on the shoulder. *Big mistake*, Buffy's
Slayer instincts were still heightened from the fight, she whirled, arm
outstretched, and caught him with the blade.
"Hey! Watch it Slayer...you've bloody well ripped my coat!" Spike looked down
at the large tear in his sleeve, blood from a gash in his arm was beginning to
stain the leather, "I'll be up all night trying to fix that. Also, you made me
drop my cigarette and it was my last one! I want compensation!"
Buffy glanced quickly at the gash on his arm and dismissed it, her eyes
caught his and she glared at him as if demanding that he explain his presence.
"I can imagine just what sort of compensation you want Spike and the answer is
definitely no."
Grimacing, he raised two fingers defiantly.
"I saw that!" Buffy hissed at him before turning her back on him and walking towards the cemetery gates.
"Did you? I'd be bloody surprised if you did. Do you ever really see me? The
human not the demon...the real Spike."
Pausing mid stride, Buffy turned and faced him again. "The demon is the real
Spike. The killing and maiming Spike, the Spike who can't possibly be in love
with me."
"Why?" Spike took a hesitant step towards her and she stepped back, needing
to keep the distance between them, "Why Slayer, because demons can't love? Who
says? Who sat down one day and wrote the rule that said I couldn't love you? It
hurts Slayer...it must be love 'cos it hurts..." He brought one callused palm up to
his chest and clasped it over his heart. "...it hurts here," he whispered, his eyes meeting with hers once more.
He began to walk towards her; that slow, purposeful gait of his reminded her
of a lion stalking its prey. Buffy was rooted to the spot, she willed her body
to move but it refused.
"You've been in love before Slayer. Remember how it felt when Angel turned.
How you died inside every time Angelus mocked your past together...told you it'd
never been love. How the sting of those words tears you apart."
Moving nearer to her Spike saw a faint flicker of understanding in her eyes
and then, quick as a flash, it was gone, replaced by the impassive glare he'd
become accustomed to.
"Spike please don't do this. Not now...I'm tired...I'm so tired of going over
the same ground with you. Life would be so much easier if we could just be...friends." Buffy began to walk towards the exit.
There it was again...the pain, grabbing his heart and twisting it at the sound
of those three little words, 'just be friends'; the antithesis of the ones his
motionless heart longed to hear.
"Don't walk out on me Buffy." Spikes steady voice belied the torment he felt
inside.
Standing in the gateway to the cemetery Buffy faced him, her voice softer
now as she spoke, "Friendship Spike. All I can ever offer you is my friendship.
Oh and...thanks...for the help." and with that she walked away.
*Ok, if that's the way she wants to play it*, Spike thought, patting his pockets and praying to the God of
nicotine that a cigarette had fallen out of the packet; *I can cope with friendship...it's a start.*
The End
Author - Just Me
Email - justme@starflower.freeserve.co.uk
Distribution - If you really want to use it just ask
Summary: The story takes place after Crush. Buffy and Spike talk...well
actually Spike talks and Buffy scowls at him.
Disclaimer: Sadly these characters do not belong to me they belong to Joss
Whedon and the gang, not to be confused with Kool and the Gang. I merely
suggested to Spike that we play naked Scrabble and Buffy got all jealous and
insisted on coming too.
Dedication: I dedicate this to my fellow Sisters O' Smut, especially
Mandikins, Maggie and Digitalis without whom I would be alone in the gutter.
May your board Spikes always have Bed Hair :-)
Notes: This was my first ever fanfic so please be kind in your reviews as
I'm small and I bruise easily. Oh and please excuse my ballistic approach to
punctuation.
Thoughts are in * *
***
The dreams were starting to hurt now. In the beginning, when he'd thought
there was a glimmer of hope, he'd enjoyed them; actually relished closing his
eyes and falling asleep but now...now there was only pain. Gut wrenching
torture, the kind of pain that grips you by the throat and rips your heart from
your chest; the sorrow of waking and remembering that it's not real...she doesn't
love you back.
Spike couldn't believe it had come to this; the guy who'd bested two Slayers
was now on the receiving end. Sure she wasn't killing him in an actual, stake
through the heart, kind of way; in this fight words were her weapon, daggers
aiming straight for his heart and mind. Every time she told him to leave, her
face etched with revulsion, a little piece of him dusted and it was like dying
for a second time.
His death at the hands, or more appropriately fangs, of Drusilla had been
quick and relatively painless, almost pleasant. He'd felt his life force ebbing
away only to be replaced by something else, something stronger, the demon that
would control his every waking moment from now until eternity. Then there'd
been the shock of waking again but it didn't last long, soon the urge to feed
overtook you and later everything was simple, fight, feed and sleep. Now all he
had was fight.
Finally Spike gave up on the idea of sleep. Sitting up he swung his legs
over the side of the cold stone sarcophagus that served as his bed and pulled
on his leather duster. Perhaps a walk in the moonlight would help him clear his
head, maybe even kick a little demon ass while he was out; anything to tire him
out so he could fall into a deep Vampyric sleep and not dream of her. He paused
in the lee of the doorway and lit a cigarette, making a mental note to pick up
a new packet while he was out.
Striding out into the cemetery Spike immediately became aware of the sound
of a fight piercing the usual silence. *Be just my rotten luck if the one
night I decide to go for a midnight stroll the sodding Slayer showed up* he
thought.
Sure enough there she was slugging it out like a pro, which she was; he'd
been on the receiving end of her fist enough times to be familiar with the
force behind it. For a split second he considered going back to the crypt. *No,
what if she gets out of her depth?* It was possible, he considered, the guys
she was fighting were huge and there were a lot of them.
As he drew closer Spike recognised her attackers as vampires, big brooding
ones, the kind that had over-developed brows even before they put their game
faces on. It looked like this lot had come suited and booted as well; the clang
of steel against steel punctuated the night air. Spike noticed that Buffy only
had a small dagger clasped in her tiny fist, the stake she always carried was
pretty much ineffective given that she couldn't get close enough to use it.
He wished he'd had the foresight to bring a weapon, how long had he been in
Sunnydale and he still didn't keep in mind that round here it was best to be
prepared? *Bloody useless Boy Scout I would've been...oh well, I'll have to use
my fists*. He cast one final glance at Buffy before rushing headlong into battle.
Spike used every ounce of preternatural ability he had and started raining
blows on the largest vamp, luckily the bleach blonde vampire had the element of
surprise and the lumbering bloodsucker had no idea what hit him.
Minutes later Spike and Buffy were alone having made short work of the vamp
pack. Buffy stood with her back to him as she scanned the surrounding area for
any remaining members. Spike gazed at her in wonder, his senses picked up the
steady thrum of her heartbeat coupled with the heady scent of adrenaline
coursing through her veins. Taking a long drag on his cigarette, he leaned over
and tapped her on the shoulder. *Big mistake*, Buffy's
Slayer instincts were still heightened from the fight, she whirled, arm
outstretched, and caught him with the blade.
"Hey! Watch it Slayer...you've bloody well ripped my coat!" Spike looked down
at the large tear in his sleeve, blood from a gash in his arm was beginning to
stain the leather, "I'll be up all night trying to fix that. Also, you made me
drop my cigarette and it was my last one! I want compensation!"
Buffy glanced quickly at the gash on his arm and dismissed it, her eyes
caught his and she glared at him as if demanding that he explain his presence.
"I can imagine just what sort of compensation you want Spike and the answer is
definitely no."
Grimacing, he raised two fingers defiantly.
"I saw that!" Buffy hissed at him before turning her back on him and walking towards the cemetery gates.
"Did you? I'd be bloody surprised if you did. Do you ever really see me? The
human not the demon...the real Spike."
Pausing mid stride, Buffy turned and faced him again. "The demon is the real
Spike. The killing and maiming Spike, the Spike who can't possibly be in love
with me."
"Why?" Spike took a hesitant step towards her and she stepped back, needing
to keep the distance between them, "Why Slayer, because demons can't love? Who
says? Who sat down one day and wrote the rule that said I couldn't love you? It
hurts Slayer...it must be love 'cos it hurts..." He brought one callused palm up to
his chest and clasped it over his heart. "...it hurts here," he whispered, his eyes meeting with hers once more.
He began to walk towards her; that slow, purposeful gait of his reminded her
of a lion stalking its prey. Buffy was rooted to the spot, she willed her body
to move but it refused.
"You've been in love before Slayer. Remember how it felt when Angel turned.
How you died inside every time Angelus mocked your past together...told you it'd
never been love. How the sting of those words tears you apart."
Moving nearer to her Spike saw a faint flicker of understanding in her eyes
and then, quick as a flash, it was gone, replaced by the impassive glare he'd
become accustomed to.
"Spike please don't do this. Not now...I'm tired...I'm so tired of going over
the same ground with you. Life would be so much easier if we could just be...friends." Buffy began to walk towards the exit.
There it was again...the pain, grabbing his heart and twisting it at the sound
of those three little words, 'just be friends'; the antithesis of the ones his
motionless heart longed to hear.
"Don't walk out on me Buffy." Spikes steady voice belied the torment he felt
inside.
Standing in the gateway to the cemetery Buffy faced him, her voice softer
now as she spoke, "Friendship Spike. All I can ever offer you is my friendship.
Oh and...thanks...for the help." and with that she walked away.
*Ok, if that's the way she wants to play it*, Spike thought, patting his pockets and praying to the God of
nicotine that a cigarette had fallen out of the packet; *I can cope with friendship...it's a start.*
The End