Stalemate
Unfulfilled 3
By Annie
Rated:PG
Spoilers: The Gift; a general Season 6 spoiler about Spike's hardware.
Disclaimer: still not mine
Feedback: crehnert@ptd.net
Part 3
I am, by unholy nature, a predator, necessarily nocturnal, but a predator nonetheless. And like all other creatures of prey, I can sense distress in those weaker than myself. When I stepped out of the crypt, bags in hand, into the unexpected thunderstorm, sensed heightened by the electric climactic changes around me, I knew she was there. In distress. I had expected that she had gone back home without a backward glance, never thought she would have hung around the cemetery, and especially not in this weather. The rain was deluging down hurtfully, and every few seconds or so a blinding flash of lightening would tingle the skin on my body. The air fairly crackled with it.
I was soaked to the skin as soon as I got out the door, but I loved it anyway. I needed something violent to assuage the grief in me, the rejection that crawled in my gut painfully. I probably would have gone back inside and waited out the storm before leaving California, but the distress signals my senses were picking up stopped me. I knew it was Buffy, but she was nowhere in sight, so I set the bags down and stood quietly, letting the cool rain inundate my cooler flesh while I closed my eyes and just sensed. I reached out, through the rain and the strobing of the storm, and I knew where she was. I should have guessed, known, right away.
Her mother's grave, of course. I always liked Joyce. Except for the axe thing, she had always treated me civilly, even warmly after a fashion. Unlike the daughter, but then I had tried to kill her a few times. I went quietly, which was practically unnecessary, with the noise of the pounding rain and the loud claps of thunder reverberating from all the corners of Sunnydale. She was up by the headstone, sitting on the wet ground, pummeled by the storm and ignoring it. Her face was in her hands, and it didn't take a bloody genius to figure out that she was crying. Poor lost Slayer.
She didn't hear me, didn't sense me either, in all her grief, but I could hear her sobbing through what had to be frozen fingers. I stood there a few seconds, torn. I should have turned around and left, gotten in the DeSoto and hightailed it right out of there.
The heart is not always wise, and mine has been nothing less than a traitor to me the last year or so, making me feel things that are unwelcome to me. I moved over to stand behind her, reaching down carefully to rest a hand on her rain-slicked hair. She jerked her head away.
"Go away, Spike," she demanded. "Far away."
"Let's get you inside, where it's dry, Pet. You won't be of use to anyone if you catch pneumonia out here." I tried to grab an arm and pull her off the muddy ground but she was having none of it, so I relented, and crouched down beside her in the teeming rain. She jumped just the slightest bit as a particularly blinding flash streaked across the farthest reaches of the cemetery. I tried again, a bit more insistently.
"Come on, Buffy. Your Mum wouldn't want you sitting here in all this muck. And my coat's getting all muddy."
She looked at me murderously. "Then go back inside. I'm fine here. I just want to talk to my Mom for few minutes, if that's all right with you."
I sighed. "I can see by the amount of liquid you've absorbed that you have been talking to her for quite a few minutes already. You're going inside - the easy way or the hard way. You pick."
Another flash of brilliance and the resultant rumble washed over us, two soaked-to-the-skin adversaries there at the grave. I held my hand out to her and stood, waiting to see if she would take it and let me pull her up. She wasn't letting me touch her, though, and my palm filled with cold rain until I gave up on the easy way.
"The hard way, then," I decided, leaning down to put my arms around her and pick her up from the wet ground. She punched me on the side of the head, but I didn't let go, and so now, of course, I had the problem of the knife in my brain. Except, I didn't. Nothing hurt, except for the minor discomfort of the punch itself, which faded instantaneously. This was something I hadn't counted on, and I was totally thrown for a loop. Was this the 'Bot? No, I knew better. Well, that was a different problem than the one I was having right now, and, somewhere in the back of my mind, I tabled it as probably meaning I hadn't meant to hurt her, so the chip never fired. I held on a long time, but she kept pummeling me until I literally dropped her.
I backed away from her just a bit, watching her chest move under the wet shirt as she caught her breath. I had to tear my eyes away, or risk another beating. I wished the rain would let up just a little. I had to shout at her just to get her to listen.
"I am not trying to hurt you, Buffy! I just want you to come inside where it's dry! You can beat me till my head explodes and I can't stop you. I know it! Just come in and talk to me. Five minutes and then I'm leaving. For good. I'm already packed, I'll show you."
"Fine, I want to tell you a few things anyway," she declared angrily, heading off in the direction of my crypt, leaving me behind in the soaking rain.
She was already inside when I got there, dragging my soaked satchels in with me, and I could see she was freezing from the soaking down she had gotten outside. I rooted in a far corner for a blanket and tossed it to her. She took it begrudgingly and sat in my favorite, and only, chair, wrapping herself securely. I wondered if it was supposed to represent protection from the cold or from me. She should have known by now that she didn't need any protection from me.
"Why did you come back here?" she bit off shortly, watching as I grabbed a cup of blood from the fridge.
"You won't mind if I have a nip, I'm sure, being we're on my turf at the moment." I remarked, sipping a bit and then putting it away. I knew it bothered her, and I wanted to keep her on edge, but I didn't want to overdo it. She still had the stake, after all.
"Why, Spike?" she repeated insistently.
"I came for my stuff, is all. I found new digs, way better than this hole.."
She interrupted me. "No, you said you came to tell me why you left. Remember? At the house earlier?"
"Touche," I said graciously. "The Slayer's memory is intact. I changed my mind about the reason, and as it stands now, I have come to get my stuff. As I said."
I was suddenly aware that I was soaked myself, and I started peeling off my clothes, dropping them to the floor carelessly as I walked around looking for something dry to wear. I saw her face flame, but she averted her eyes and said nothing. At least I thought she averted her eyes, I was deliberately not looking at her as I leaned against a stone wall for leverage to shed my wet jeans. I took my time in the corner, too, looking for dry clothes. Let her see what she'll be missing, was my thought.
She still wasn't overtly looking as I returned to stand in front of her. I softened then, she was still shivering, and it was getting increasingly hard for me to stay angry at someone I loved who was in as much torment as she seemed to be in at the moment.
"I have nothing to offer you, like tea or anything. It's the other English chap had that, but I could give you a shot or two of bourbon. Warms the blood nicely."
"I don't want anything from you," she said plainly. "If you came for your things, why were you at the house, watching us?"
"Fine," I replied. "I just wanted to stop a minute and see if everyone was all right. Check on things. See how the Bit was doing."
She shifted slightly on the chair, pulling the blanket tighter around her. I wanted to hold her in the worst way then, but knew it was out of the question.
"I came to tell you, Spike, that I hated you for leaving. I hated Fate for making me have to jump to stop Glory, I hated my friends for ripping me out of Heaven to bring me back here. There's nothing here for me except you, and I hate you the most just because of that. You've trailed along after me for years, now, shamelessly, like a dog in heat, and the one thing I needed you to do - you blew it."
Now I was getting angry. "Yea, so, I'm shameless. What of it? I never made any pretenses about anything. Not in my entire life. Or my unlife. I bared my soul, or whatever the bloody hell makes me feel like this, how many times now? And here we are, once again. Fighting for all the wrong reasons. If you want to take me outside and drive a stake through me, then let's have at it once and for all. Barring that, I am packed and leaving here forever, because this, this non-relationship we have, doesn't do anything for me except get me smacked around. I'm done, Pet. I've tried too many times and I don't want to try anymore."
She stood then, coming dangerously close to me. I kept wondering in the back of my mind where she had the stake.
"I don't want you to try anymore, Spike. It's not worth it. Not worth the time and aggravation for you. We're two of a kind Spike, because even though I jumped from the tower to save the world, I still ended up leaving everyone who depended on me - just like you. Now I'm back, and they depend on me to be exactly the same. I'm not the same. I've gone through so much the past few years, I don't even know anymore if I'll be up to the next Apocalypse or not. There's no one to help me now, no one except you, and you were gone. Everyone else is busy with their lives, and I'm the Chosen One, not any of them. I'm the one who has to get the job done. I don't want to have to do it myself. And I obviously can't depend on you."
She headed toward the door, taking my blanket and my insides along with her. What the bloody hell, I'm shameless, right? One last-ditch effort for the road.
"Buffy," I spoke quietly, but she heard me and stopped, not turning around. I took a proverbial, pretend, deep breath and dived in.
"We get one chance for real love in our lifetimes, if we're very lucky. I thought I had my shot already, until I saw you. One chance at something exceptional. Funny how these things creep into your gut till you're ready to die from the feelings inside. I haven't exactly been enjoying the past months myself, after all, you were gone forever. I should have thought about turning you as soon as I knew I loved you, so I could keep you forever, but you see, there's the rub, Love. I could never do it to you. That's when I knew. I am truly, deeply, totally in love with you. And that's the last time I am ever going to say the words. So, you just go on home now, and tomorrow night you can go patrolling, safe and sound from the Big Bad."
Damned if she didn't walk out the door.
Unfulfilled 3
By Annie
Rated:PG
Spoilers: The Gift; a general Season 6 spoiler about Spike's hardware.
Disclaimer: still not mine
Feedback: crehnert@ptd.net
Part 3
I am, by unholy nature, a predator, necessarily nocturnal, but a predator nonetheless. And like all other creatures of prey, I can sense distress in those weaker than myself. When I stepped out of the crypt, bags in hand, into the unexpected thunderstorm, sensed heightened by the electric climactic changes around me, I knew she was there. In distress. I had expected that she had gone back home without a backward glance, never thought she would have hung around the cemetery, and especially not in this weather. The rain was deluging down hurtfully, and every few seconds or so a blinding flash of lightening would tingle the skin on my body. The air fairly crackled with it.
I was soaked to the skin as soon as I got out the door, but I loved it anyway. I needed something violent to assuage the grief in me, the rejection that crawled in my gut painfully. I probably would have gone back inside and waited out the storm before leaving California, but the distress signals my senses were picking up stopped me. I knew it was Buffy, but she was nowhere in sight, so I set the bags down and stood quietly, letting the cool rain inundate my cooler flesh while I closed my eyes and just sensed. I reached out, through the rain and the strobing of the storm, and I knew where she was. I should have guessed, known, right away.
Her mother's grave, of course. I always liked Joyce. Except for the axe thing, she had always treated me civilly, even warmly after a fashion. Unlike the daughter, but then I had tried to kill her a few times. I went quietly, which was practically unnecessary, with the noise of the pounding rain and the loud claps of thunder reverberating from all the corners of Sunnydale. She was up by the headstone, sitting on the wet ground, pummeled by the storm and ignoring it. Her face was in her hands, and it didn't take a bloody genius to figure out that she was crying. Poor lost Slayer.
She didn't hear me, didn't sense me either, in all her grief, but I could hear her sobbing through what had to be frozen fingers. I stood there a few seconds, torn. I should have turned around and left, gotten in the DeSoto and hightailed it right out of there.
The heart is not always wise, and mine has been nothing less than a traitor to me the last year or so, making me feel things that are unwelcome to me. I moved over to stand behind her, reaching down carefully to rest a hand on her rain-slicked hair. She jerked her head away.
"Go away, Spike," she demanded. "Far away."
"Let's get you inside, where it's dry, Pet. You won't be of use to anyone if you catch pneumonia out here." I tried to grab an arm and pull her off the muddy ground but she was having none of it, so I relented, and crouched down beside her in the teeming rain. She jumped just the slightest bit as a particularly blinding flash streaked across the farthest reaches of the cemetery. I tried again, a bit more insistently.
"Come on, Buffy. Your Mum wouldn't want you sitting here in all this muck. And my coat's getting all muddy."
She looked at me murderously. "Then go back inside. I'm fine here. I just want to talk to my Mom for few minutes, if that's all right with you."
I sighed. "I can see by the amount of liquid you've absorbed that you have been talking to her for quite a few minutes already. You're going inside - the easy way or the hard way. You pick."
Another flash of brilliance and the resultant rumble washed over us, two soaked-to-the-skin adversaries there at the grave. I held my hand out to her and stood, waiting to see if she would take it and let me pull her up. She wasn't letting me touch her, though, and my palm filled with cold rain until I gave up on the easy way.
"The hard way, then," I decided, leaning down to put my arms around her and pick her up from the wet ground. She punched me on the side of the head, but I didn't let go, and so now, of course, I had the problem of the knife in my brain. Except, I didn't. Nothing hurt, except for the minor discomfort of the punch itself, which faded instantaneously. This was something I hadn't counted on, and I was totally thrown for a loop. Was this the 'Bot? No, I knew better. Well, that was a different problem than the one I was having right now, and, somewhere in the back of my mind, I tabled it as probably meaning I hadn't meant to hurt her, so the chip never fired. I held on a long time, but she kept pummeling me until I literally dropped her.
I backed away from her just a bit, watching her chest move under the wet shirt as she caught her breath. I had to tear my eyes away, or risk another beating. I wished the rain would let up just a little. I had to shout at her just to get her to listen.
"I am not trying to hurt you, Buffy! I just want you to come inside where it's dry! You can beat me till my head explodes and I can't stop you. I know it! Just come in and talk to me. Five minutes and then I'm leaving. For good. I'm already packed, I'll show you."
"Fine, I want to tell you a few things anyway," she declared angrily, heading off in the direction of my crypt, leaving me behind in the soaking rain.
She was already inside when I got there, dragging my soaked satchels in with me, and I could see she was freezing from the soaking down she had gotten outside. I rooted in a far corner for a blanket and tossed it to her. She took it begrudgingly and sat in my favorite, and only, chair, wrapping herself securely. I wondered if it was supposed to represent protection from the cold or from me. She should have known by now that she didn't need any protection from me.
"Why did you come back here?" she bit off shortly, watching as I grabbed a cup of blood from the fridge.
"You won't mind if I have a nip, I'm sure, being we're on my turf at the moment." I remarked, sipping a bit and then putting it away. I knew it bothered her, and I wanted to keep her on edge, but I didn't want to overdo it. She still had the stake, after all.
"Why, Spike?" she repeated insistently.
"I came for my stuff, is all. I found new digs, way better than this hole.."
She interrupted me. "No, you said you came to tell me why you left. Remember? At the house earlier?"
"Touche," I said graciously. "The Slayer's memory is intact. I changed my mind about the reason, and as it stands now, I have come to get my stuff. As I said."
I was suddenly aware that I was soaked myself, and I started peeling off my clothes, dropping them to the floor carelessly as I walked around looking for something dry to wear. I saw her face flame, but she averted her eyes and said nothing. At least I thought she averted her eyes, I was deliberately not looking at her as I leaned against a stone wall for leverage to shed my wet jeans. I took my time in the corner, too, looking for dry clothes. Let her see what she'll be missing, was my thought.
She still wasn't overtly looking as I returned to stand in front of her. I softened then, she was still shivering, and it was getting increasingly hard for me to stay angry at someone I loved who was in as much torment as she seemed to be in at the moment.
"I have nothing to offer you, like tea or anything. It's the other English chap had that, but I could give you a shot or two of bourbon. Warms the blood nicely."
"I don't want anything from you," she said plainly. "If you came for your things, why were you at the house, watching us?"
"Fine," I replied. "I just wanted to stop a minute and see if everyone was all right. Check on things. See how the Bit was doing."
She shifted slightly on the chair, pulling the blanket tighter around her. I wanted to hold her in the worst way then, but knew it was out of the question.
"I came to tell you, Spike, that I hated you for leaving. I hated Fate for making me have to jump to stop Glory, I hated my friends for ripping me out of Heaven to bring me back here. There's nothing here for me except you, and I hate you the most just because of that. You've trailed along after me for years, now, shamelessly, like a dog in heat, and the one thing I needed you to do - you blew it."
Now I was getting angry. "Yea, so, I'm shameless. What of it? I never made any pretenses about anything. Not in my entire life. Or my unlife. I bared my soul, or whatever the bloody hell makes me feel like this, how many times now? And here we are, once again. Fighting for all the wrong reasons. If you want to take me outside and drive a stake through me, then let's have at it once and for all. Barring that, I am packed and leaving here forever, because this, this non-relationship we have, doesn't do anything for me except get me smacked around. I'm done, Pet. I've tried too many times and I don't want to try anymore."
She stood then, coming dangerously close to me. I kept wondering in the back of my mind where she had the stake.
"I don't want you to try anymore, Spike. It's not worth it. Not worth the time and aggravation for you. We're two of a kind Spike, because even though I jumped from the tower to save the world, I still ended up leaving everyone who depended on me - just like you. Now I'm back, and they depend on me to be exactly the same. I'm not the same. I've gone through so much the past few years, I don't even know anymore if I'll be up to the next Apocalypse or not. There's no one to help me now, no one except you, and you were gone. Everyone else is busy with their lives, and I'm the Chosen One, not any of them. I'm the one who has to get the job done. I don't want to have to do it myself. And I obviously can't depend on you."
She headed toward the door, taking my blanket and my insides along with her. What the bloody hell, I'm shameless, right? One last-ditch effort for the road.
"Buffy," I spoke quietly, but she heard me and stopped, not turning around. I took a proverbial, pretend, deep breath and dived in.
"We get one chance for real love in our lifetimes, if we're very lucky. I thought I had my shot already, until I saw you. One chance at something exceptional. Funny how these things creep into your gut till you're ready to die from the feelings inside. I haven't exactly been enjoying the past months myself, after all, you were gone forever. I should have thought about turning you as soon as I knew I loved you, so I could keep you forever, but you see, there's the rub, Love. I could never do it to you. That's when I knew. I am truly, deeply, totally in love with you. And that's the last time I am ever going to say the words. So, you just go on home now, and tomorrow night you can go patrolling, safe and sound from the Big Bad."
Damned if she didn't walk out the door.