Title: History Repeats (1/?: Sorrow the First)
Author: Angelus
E-mail: angelus1317@hotmail.com (Please put "History Repeats" on the subject line.)
Subject: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Category: BSR. A.
Rating: NC-17 (eventually).
Summary: Absence makes the heart grow fonder...
Spoilers: Dunno the name - it's the one where Riley comes back, though.
Archive: Anywhere, just ask me first.
Disclaimer: If I owned these guys, well...let's just say that Spike wouldn't have any time to be starring in fanfics. Buffy, Spike and company are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and UPN.
Author's notes: I dunno, I was just kinda thinking and it occurred to me that I wanted to do a story completely in present tense. So - here it is.
Dedication: To Katie. What would I do without you? Sappo forever.
~*~
He misses her. His crypt is uncomfortably dark and quiet, he's noticed, without her there to brighten it up.
She used to make it shine like the sun - minus the flammable side effects. She used to send her tinkling, silver-bell laugh reverberating against the drab stone walls. She used to make it smell like her lipgloss and perfume. She used to make him eager to come home.
He dreads it now. When he enters, he smells nothing but alcohol, cigarette smoke, and stale blood. The dripping water keeps him up at night. And when he lays in his bed on his back and stares up, he sees nothing but the dark, dank stone ceiling of the underground cave rather than her smiling face.
He still sees that face occasionally; at the Bronze, when he passes by her house and just *happens* to peer through her window, or when she stops by for information. He can't help but notice that she doesn't smile as much anymore.
She used to smile; when she was with him. He'd attack her from behind and push her turtleneck aside to press his cold lips on the purplish hickey already marring the skin of her warm neck and he couldn't wipe that goofy grin off of her face for the rest of the evening.
He misses that smile. Little does she know that one quick upward twitch of her lips drives him wild with desire. When she's with him, they can both forget that he's a vampire and she's the Slayer. It makes things simpler...for a little while.
But they haven't been together for quite some time now. He remembers, of course, with perfect accuracy, the last time that she was here with him. It was when Soldier Boy walked in on them. He remembers how proud he was that day; he had gotten a shag and a one-up on Captain Cardboard, how could life get any better than this? Then everything had fallen apart, both literally and figuratively. Buffy had found out that he was the Doctor, and she and Riley had proceeded to blow up his crypt.
He wonders how he managed to pull the wool over her eyes in the first place. Had she not gotten curious when he refused to let her go downstairs? Originally, the plan had been to prove to her that he was more than just her lap dog; that he still had some Big Bad still left in him, somewhere just below the surface. But the more oblivious to it she had become, the more of a chore it had become, and there was no fight that started with screaming and ended with a hard, violent shag like he had hoped for.
Truth be told, he's more disgusted with himself than he is proud. He supposes he could be disgusted with her gullibility, but he loves her too much to attribute any sort of fault to her. So he schemed up a way to get some easy money. What has it gotten him? A blown-up crypt, a good cry, and a hurt Slayer. Brilliant, he congratulates himself. Simply bloody brilliant.
Last week at the church was a revelation of sorts. He told her how much he misses her smile and she told him that she still wants him. He's been giddy since the moment he bade her goodbye and dragged Little Miss Morbid out the door. He only wishes that she were here to share in his happiness.
He feels a bit guilty at times - being the cause of her vulnerability. He's not stupid - he knows that he's her weak spot. But sometimes he wonders if he's taking advantage of it; of her. He wonders, maybe, if he should back off a bit and let her sort this out all by herself.
But then, all he has to do is close his eyes and picture her back in his bed where she belongs. This is right; its good for both of them; it's what they need. Now the only thing he had to do is wait for her to realize that.
He flops down in a beat-up and now scorched leather armchair - one of the few pieces of furniture to survive the explosion. He hasn't even bothered to clean anything up, save for shoving some debris off of the bed. He knows it's only a matter of time. After all - she likes the rubble, right?
~*~
END
Author: Angelus
E-mail: angelus1317@hotmail.com (Please put "History Repeats" on the subject line.)
Subject: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Category: BSR. A.
Rating: NC-17 (eventually).
Summary: Absence makes the heart grow fonder...
Spoilers: Dunno the name - it's the one where Riley comes back, though.
Archive: Anywhere, just ask me first.
Disclaimer: If I owned these guys, well...let's just say that Spike wouldn't have any time to be starring in fanfics. Buffy, Spike and company are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and UPN.
Author's notes: I dunno, I was just kinda thinking and it occurred to me that I wanted to do a story completely in present tense. So - here it is.
Dedication: To Katie. What would I do without you? Sappo forever.
~*~
He misses her. His crypt is uncomfortably dark and quiet, he's noticed, without her there to brighten it up.
She used to make it shine like the sun - minus the flammable side effects. She used to send her tinkling, silver-bell laugh reverberating against the drab stone walls. She used to make it smell like her lipgloss and perfume. She used to make him eager to come home.
He dreads it now. When he enters, he smells nothing but alcohol, cigarette smoke, and stale blood. The dripping water keeps him up at night. And when he lays in his bed on his back and stares up, he sees nothing but the dark, dank stone ceiling of the underground cave rather than her smiling face.
He still sees that face occasionally; at the Bronze, when he passes by her house and just *happens* to peer through her window, or when she stops by for information. He can't help but notice that she doesn't smile as much anymore.
She used to smile; when she was with him. He'd attack her from behind and push her turtleneck aside to press his cold lips on the purplish hickey already marring the skin of her warm neck and he couldn't wipe that goofy grin off of her face for the rest of the evening.
He misses that smile. Little does she know that one quick upward twitch of her lips drives him wild with desire. When she's with him, they can both forget that he's a vampire and she's the Slayer. It makes things simpler...for a little while.
But they haven't been together for quite some time now. He remembers, of course, with perfect accuracy, the last time that she was here with him. It was when Soldier Boy walked in on them. He remembers how proud he was that day; he had gotten a shag and a one-up on Captain Cardboard, how could life get any better than this? Then everything had fallen apart, both literally and figuratively. Buffy had found out that he was the Doctor, and she and Riley had proceeded to blow up his crypt.
He wonders how he managed to pull the wool over her eyes in the first place. Had she not gotten curious when he refused to let her go downstairs? Originally, the plan had been to prove to her that he was more than just her lap dog; that he still had some Big Bad still left in him, somewhere just below the surface. But the more oblivious to it she had become, the more of a chore it had become, and there was no fight that started with screaming and ended with a hard, violent shag like he had hoped for.
Truth be told, he's more disgusted with himself than he is proud. He supposes he could be disgusted with her gullibility, but he loves her too much to attribute any sort of fault to her. So he schemed up a way to get some easy money. What has it gotten him? A blown-up crypt, a good cry, and a hurt Slayer. Brilliant, he congratulates himself. Simply bloody brilliant.
Last week at the church was a revelation of sorts. He told her how much he misses her smile and she told him that she still wants him. He's been giddy since the moment he bade her goodbye and dragged Little Miss Morbid out the door. He only wishes that she were here to share in his happiness.
He feels a bit guilty at times - being the cause of her vulnerability. He's not stupid - he knows that he's her weak spot. But sometimes he wonders if he's taking advantage of it; of her. He wonders, maybe, if he should back off a bit and let her sort this out all by herself.
But then, all he has to do is close his eyes and picture her back in his bed where she belongs. This is right; its good for both of them; it's what they need. Now the only thing he had to do is wait for her to realize that.
He flops down in a beat-up and now scorched leather armchair - one of the few pieces of furniture to survive the explosion. He hasn't even bothered to clean anything up, save for shoving some debris off of the bed. He knows it's only a matter of time. After all - she likes the rubble, right?
~*~
END
