Title -- Trojan Horse (Pt2 of Under A Blood Moon) (2/?)
Author -- Devylish
Disclaimer -- JW, ME, et al. own BTVS. I also do not own: Shakespeare's Hamlet, Joy Fielding's Bridget Jones' Diary, Wheaties, or Mountain Dew... I don't even own the computer I'm using.
Distribution -- just ask. Story can also be found on the Fanfiction site at: http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=634524
Feedback -- always welcome. Please send to devylish@hotmail.com
Rating -- PG-13 for a little language
A/N -- The plot of this tale is based on the guidelines suggested by the Smashed Challenge issued on the Obsidian Moonlight site (for detailed challenge rules se: http://www.obsidianmoonlight.com/writing/challenges.html). This particular scene takes place five days after SMASHED. Buffy gets a present.
Trojan Horse (Pt2 of Under A Blood Moon) (2/?)
I open the back door and look outside. No one there... which is strange, because I could have sworn I had sensed -- .
Looking down I see, on the flagstone stoop, a wicker basket. Peering around the bright yard one more time, I shrug my shoulders and bend down to pick up the decidedly un-ominous package.
"If it's a baby," I mutter to myself, "I'm going to go to the neighbors, ring their doorbell, drop the basket, and run like hell."
Climbing up onto a stool at the kitchen island, I stare at the basket intently: "To open it, or not to open it, that is the question..." I knew who the package was from -- he was the one I had sensed at the door -- but even if I hadn't felt his presence, there was a faint scent of tobacco lacing the weaving of the basket. His scent. A fragrance I had been unable to forget for the past five days... ever since I'd broken a house while 'shagging' him like a 'wanton sex goddess'. So, yes, I was positive, whatever was inside the basket, it came from Spike.
The knowledge made me squirm. I'd managed to successfully avoid him for nearly a week. Avoid even the possibility of confronting the little doubt that niggled at the back of my brain. The doubt that what had happened that night wasn't a one time deal. It was a doubt that I couldn't afford to address.
"It had to be a one time deal, an aberration. A moment of temporary insanity. Or... maybe Spike had been practicing his thrall skills..."
I shake my head, "It doesn't matter, I'm over whatever madness enveloped me, and made me jump the bones of, yet another, dead boy. Yep, all done..." I pause and groan, "Real brave Buffy. If you're so 'over the madness', why are you so desperately avoiding said dead boy? And why the hell are you afraid to open a simple, wicker basket just because you know it's from him?"
Reaching tentatively for the basket lid, I touch the weaving and continue to give myself a little motivational talk. "Spike bad. Buffy good. Simplicity defined. Say it again. Spike bad. Buffy good... Nothing Spike could possibly place in a picnic basket will ever change those facts. It's black and white."
Black and white with a little bit of grey thrown in. I drop my hand from the container. "Honestly speaking -- and I'll say it again, honesty is an overrated commodity -- I was there when the whole 'house coming down' activities occurred, and I wasn't exactly an uninvolved participant." I feel a flush of heat slip over me, "No, I was most definitely part of that demolition crew. And how can I just explain that away?" Remembering and grasping desperately at Spike's words, 'You came back wrong', I rephrase my little mantra. "Okay, Spike bad. Buffy wrong. Simplicity redefined."
Simple. Except for... well, "Damn The Demon! Why does he have to keep his promises? Why can't he break at least one of them? Even after... even after the person he makes the promise to DIES... Even when 'it breaks him into tiny little pieces' to keep the promise..."
Those had been Dawn's words when she had filled me in on the summer happenings of the gang... and Spike. Dawn had explained how Spike had ostensibly taken up residence with Willow, Tara, and Dawn in the Summers' home. How he'd walked through the back door every day -- every day with the knowledge that she, Buffy, wasn't there. Each and every time he'd entered the house, the knowledge was written all over his face. Dawn had waxed poetic, and added, "I could see something in him break, a little more, into slightly smaller pieces every visit -- but still he came."
"Damn him. I know why he continued to come, continued to help the gang, continued to care for Dawn. He came because he'd made a promise; a promise to a dead slayer. To me. Less and less, black and white; more and more, grey."
Pushing away from the counter, I pull open the fridge door and scan its contents. "9am in the morning and what do I want? Ahh Ha! Mountain Dew, the true breakfast of champions." Popping the tab, I turn round to face the small Trojan Horse sitting on my counter. "Despite what I'm trying to tell myself, I know that if I open that container, I'll find it even more difficult to keep Spike at bay." I refuse to look more closely at whether it would be Spike who would need to be held at bay, or if... it would be me. Instead I focus on fighting the temptation represented by a wicker basket. "I need to think of it as a war. He's the enemy and he wants to get at me any way he can. I have no obligation to open the basket, because I know that his primary goal is to storm the gates, to worm his way back into my home, back into my mind."
I snort quietly, "Not that he's ever really left my mind. His presence in my psyche, especially since that night has been overwhelming. It's like this Pay-Per View boxing match that is constantly running through my mind:
*Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Summers; Auditorium. In this corner of the Buffy Ring, we have The Century and a Half Old, Evil, Bloodsucking Demon -- SPIIIKE! And his opponent, in the opposite corner: The Brilliantly Sexy, Loyal, Lover Boy -- SPIIIKE! It's a no holds barred, thrust beneath the belt, Death/Love Match folks! Winner takes all!*"
"The evil demon part... I'm used to that, I can deal with that -- that's my job. It's the 'brilliant, loyal' side that I'm constantly tripping over. Well, actually, it's just the 'loyalty' part that's freaking me out. Brilliance and sexiness are not exclusive to souled humanity. But loyalty... that's something else. It symbolizes attachment, and a subtlety of emotion..." I take my thoughts a little further, "And aren't the traces of emotions, the non-bloodlusty type, a sign of a heart and soul? Aren't the heart and soul the very housing of those subtle little emotions?"
I nod in silent agreement with myself and resume my perch before the basket. "Without the soul cage, emotions visit the body, but, how can they stay? They have nothing to cling to... nothing to hide themselves inside of...." Confused sigh. "Which brings me right back around to point #1. Why does Spike - read souless fiend -- claim to love me? And why did he continue to care for Dawn and the gang when I was gone? Ugggh! It's 'so' not black and white. I long for black and white."
A moment more passes as I try to use my non-existent x-ray vision to identify the contents of the basket. I breathe in, and my nostrils are flooded with the grainy, pungent odor of old wicker and a certain undead vampire. "Why can't I get the memory of him out of my mind?"
I realize that my head is starting to ache, and that my stomach is doing weird little twisties. Glancing at the caffeinated soda clutched in my hand, I grimace. "You seemed like such a good idea when I picked you up, but uhh..." I dump the can's contents into the sink and pat my tummy placatingly. "What do you want? You wake me up from a perfectly good nightmare last night, and now you have the nerve to complain when I try and get myself a caffeinated jolt to start my day off with? Don't you know, a slayer with no caffeine is only half a slayer?" Grinning goofily at my own silliness, I face my wicker clad dilemma one more time.
"Okay Buffy, decision time." I stare at the basket.
Resolution made, I pick up the morning newspaper and head toward the front door for my jacket and scarf.
"I think I'll go to the Magic Box and leave the decision of what to do about Spike's little gift for later! Later is always good.
TBC