Chapter 7
"What do you mean he's gone?" Buffy demanded.
Willow took a small step back from her best friend's hard stare. Her eyes were a rainbow of colors and her fists clenched at her side in anger. Willow did not want to be on the receiving end of that anger. "He left a note," she said, offering the letter.
Buffy snatched it from her and quickly read it, her features relaxing slightly. "He says he'll be back."
Willow nodded eagerly. "That's what he told me."
Buffy narrowed her eyes. "I thought you said he was already gone when you got there."
Willow blanched. Ok, this was not of the good. "Well, he told me this morning."
"You knew this morning?" Buffy exploded, "And you didn't tell me?"
"He told me not to," Willow's voice was small. Earlier that day it made perfect sense to do what the nice, chipless vampire had asked. After all, Willow couldn't think of a reason to instigate his anger, or even annoyance. Of course, being forced to choose between the vampire and the super-slayer, Willow had to admit that Spike seemed a lot less menacing.
Buffy glared at her friend for a few more seconds than stomped upstairs to her bedroom. She felt bad for yelling at Willow. It wasn't Willow's fault. But she was angry and Willow was there. Convenient.
Like Spike.
"Oh.Oh God." Buffy whispered. Is that what she did to her friends? Use them to take out her frustrations on because they were convenient? Wasn't she better than that? Shouldn't she be better than that?
Suddenly it hit her, every harsh word and bitter thought and stony glare. Every time she mocked Spike's love, and ignored Willow's pain, and angered Dawn with her indifference, and took Xander for granted. Every time she had disappointed Giles. It seemed like all of these memories were pushing down upon her and then ripping her apart.
She sunk onto the bed and forced herself to concentrate, reaching for Spike. She just wanted to take her mind off of this pain. She felt so horrible. It occurred to her briefly to be thankful that this guilt was not manifesting itself as physical wounds like Spike's had.
Finally, she found him. He was driving, but he was calm. He lacked all the nervous energy that she associated with him. She let his stillness wash over here and soon her battered emotions were allowed to rest. Just as quickly as the guilt had arrived it was gone and she felt normal again.
Overwhelmed by what had just happened she lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. She hadn't felt anything that intense in years. Sure the "old" Buffy, the pre-dead Buffy, was back. But even before she died she had kept a tight reign on her emotions, she had kept her feelings in a box. She wasn't equipped to deal with all of her feelings of content and inadequacy all at once like that.
After several minutes of calming exercises she roused herself and went after Willow. She found the ex-witch in the kitchen, fixing herself a sandwich for dinner. "Willow," she said softly, "I'm really sorry for yelling at you like that."
"Oh, it's ok."
Buffy held up a hand to stop her. "No, it wasn't. You didn't do anything to deserve that. Thank you for bringing me the letter."
Willow walked over and hugged her friend around the neck. "I know you're going through a lot right now. It's ok to be a bit snappy."
"Thanks Will. So, more research tonight?"
"Just me and Anya. We're actually investigating spells."
"I thought you said a spell wouldn't work."
Willow shook her head, "It won't. We're investigating the properties of spells. What makes magic magic so to speak. We're hoping that if we find out enough we might be able to neutralize the curse by non-magical means."
"Sounds like you have your work cut for you."
She smiled, "It actually sounds like fun. Plus Anya knows a lot more about magic than we ever gave her credit for. You patrolling tonight?"
"Yeah, I'm doing some sweeps. It's not fun to do it alone though."
"Oh, I can come with you," Willow quickly offered.
Buffy smiled, "No, you need to be research girl right now. I'll be fine."
The first thing Buffy did when she left for patrol was head straight to Spike's place. It was the same thing she had done every night while he was away last summer. 'Stupid Spike,' she thought as she walked through the door, 'This is all your fault. Dumb vampires.'
Her mind drifted back through their relationship, starting with the words "I kill you" and ending with "Love always William." What was the turning point that sent the whole thing over the edge? When did it spin so completely out of control, setting the wheels in motion towards her becoming a super slayer? Was it before she was even born, when he was turned? After that when he killed his first Slayer? His second?
Buffy was typically one for deep thoughts, but this particular notion latched on and refused to let go. If he had never killed the second Slayer in New York-Niki, Buffy had later learned her name was-would she be standing there? Probably not. The Slayer would have killed Spike, lived another day, and maybe that day would have just been enough to keep Buffy from being called.
Spike had told her that he bested the slayers because they wanted it. They were just a little bit in love with death. Maybe fate had more of a hand in it than Spike would have liked to admit.
Thinking like this made her head ache slightly.
She walked into the crypt. His presence assaulted her senses. She noticed a black bundle on top of the TV and, curious, she went to pick it up. It was one of his T-shirts, and a note sat underneath it.
Slayer, Red told me that you smell everything. Spike.
Buffy smiled. He had left a shirt to comfort her. She held it up to her nose and breathed in deeply. She would sleep in it until he could come back to her.
Suddenly, Buffy collapsed to the floor, her muscles quivering, her heart racing, sweat pouring down her body. Intense orgasms shot through her body, but she was too breathless to scream.
'How can smelling a shirt do this to me?' Buffy though wildly as another one shook her body. Then it hit her. Faces and feelings. Angel, Parker, Riley, Spike. Her lovers. Hugging her mother. Eating Willow's cookies. Training with Giles. Dancing at the Bronze. Every positive, wonderful moment that she ever had rushed through her body, drowning her in warmth and pleasure and love.
Finally it was over, and she curled into a fetal position, hugging her knees to her chest, too tired and boneless to even think, much less move. Enough blood rushed back to her brain for her to wonder idly before she fell asleep, "What the hell is going on?"
***
Spike felt Buffy's pleasure so intensely that he nearly crashed his car. He was forced to pull over onto the shoulder of the highway, grasping the steering wheel until his knuckles were white, gasping for unneeded breath.
"What..the fuck.was that..all about?" Spike gasped when it was finally done. "Jesus Christ, what in bloody hell was that girl doing?"
He felt her fall asleep and he wanted to fall asleep too. He was exhausted, like they had just gone a dozen rounds with each other-fighting and fucking both. He knew she wasn't sleeping with anybody else, and there was no way she could have that many orgasms by herself. He knew that from experience.
He also knew that it would be the death of him if it hit him like that again while he was driving.
When he was sure she was going to stay asleep, he carefully pulled back onto the road. He had also experienced her pain and grief earlier that day. Fortunately that wasn't nearly intense as the latter experience. It hadn't lasted nearly as long. Spike figured that meant that she had more love than pain in her life.
He hoped that's what it meant.
"What do you mean he's gone?" Buffy demanded.
Willow took a small step back from her best friend's hard stare. Her eyes were a rainbow of colors and her fists clenched at her side in anger. Willow did not want to be on the receiving end of that anger. "He left a note," she said, offering the letter.
Buffy snatched it from her and quickly read it, her features relaxing slightly. "He says he'll be back."
Willow nodded eagerly. "That's what he told me."
Buffy narrowed her eyes. "I thought you said he was already gone when you got there."
Willow blanched. Ok, this was not of the good. "Well, he told me this morning."
"You knew this morning?" Buffy exploded, "And you didn't tell me?"
"He told me not to," Willow's voice was small. Earlier that day it made perfect sense to do what the nice, chipless vampire had asked. After all, Willow couldn't think of a reason to instigate his anger, or even annoyance. Of course, being forced to choose between the vampire and the super-slayer, Willow had to admit that Spike seemed a lot less menacing.
Buffy glared at her friend for a few more seconds than stomped upstairs to her bedroom. She felt bad for yelling at Willow. It wasn't Willow's fault. But she was angry and Willow was there. Convenient.
Like Spike.
"Oh.Oh God." Buffy whispered. Is that what she did to her friends? Use them to take out her frustrations on because they were convenient? Wasn't she better than that? Shouldn't she be better than that?
Suddenly it hit her, every harsh word and bitter thought and stony glare. Every time she mocked Spike's love, and ignored Willow's pain, and angered Dawn with her indifference, and took Xander for granted. Every time she had disappointed Giles. It seemed like all of these memories were pushing down upon her and then ripping her apart.
She sunk onto the bed and forced herself to concentrate, reaching for Spike. She just wanted to take her mind off of this pain. She felt so horrible. It occurred to her briefly to be thankful that this guilt was not manifesting itself as physical wounds like Spike's had.
Finally, she found him. He was driving, but he was calm. He lacked all the nervous energy that she associated with him. She let his stillness wash over here and soon her battered emotions were allowed to rest. Just as quickly as the guilt had arrived it was gone and she felt normal again.
Overwhelmed by what had just happened she lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. She hadn't felt anything that intense in years. Sure the "old" Buffy, the pre-dead Buffy, was back. But even before she died she had kept a tight reign on her emotions, she had kept her feelings in a box. She wasn't equipped to deal with all of her feelings of content and inadequacy all at once like that.
After several minutes of calming exercises she roused herself and went after Willow. She found the ex-witch in the kitchen, fixing herself a sandwich for dinner. "Willow," she said softly, "I'm really sorry for yelling at you like that."
"Oh, it's ok."
Buffy held up a hand to stop her. "No, it wasn't. You didn't do anything to deserve that. Thank you for bringing me the letter."
Willow walked over and hugged her friend around the neck. "I know you're going through a lot right now. It's ok to be a bit snappy."
"Thanks Will. So, more research tonight?"
"Just me and Anya. We're actually investigating spells."
"I thought you said a spell wouldn't work."
Willow shook her head, "It won't. We're investigating the properties of spells. What makes magic magic so to speak. We're hoping that if we find out enough we might be able to neutralize the curse by non-magical means."
"Sounds like you have your work cut for you."
She smiled, "It actually sounds like fun. Plus Anya knows a lot more about magic than we ever gave her credit for. You patrolling tonight?"
"Yeah, I'm doing some sweeps. It's not fun to do it alone though."
"Oh, I can come with you," Willow quickly offered.
Buffy smiled, "No, you need to be research girl right now. I'll be fine."
The first thing Buffy did when she left for patrol was head straight to Spike's place. It was the same thing she had done every night while he was away last summer. 'Stupid Spike,' she thought as she walked through the door, 'This is all your fault. Dumb vampires.'
Her mind drifted back through their relationship, starting with the words "I kill you" and ending with "Love always William." What was the turning point that sent the whole thing over the edge? When did it spin so completely out of control, setting the wheels in motion towards her becoming a super slayer? Was it before she was even born, when he was turned? After that when he killed his first Slayer? His second?
Buffy was typically one for deep thoughts, but this particular notion latched on and refused to let go. If he had never killed the second Slayer in New York-Niki, Buffy had later learned her name was-would she be standing there? Probably not. The Slayer would have killed Spike, lived another day, and maybe that day would have just been enough to keep Buffy from being called.
Spike had told her that he bested the slayers because they wanted it. They were just a little bit in love with death. Maybe fate had more of a hand in it than Spike would have liked to admit.
Thinking like this made her head ache slightly.
She walked into the crypt. His presence assaulted her senses. She noticed a black bundle on top of the TV and, curious, she went to pick it up. It was one of his T-shirts, and a note sat underneath it.
Slayer, Red told me that you smell everything. Spike.
Buffy smiled. He had left a shirt to comfort her. She held it up to her nose and breathed in deeply. She would sleep in it until he could come back to her.
Suddenly, Buffy collapsed to the floor, her muscles quivering, her heart racing, sweat pouring down her body. Intense orgasms shot through her body, but she was too breathless to scream.
'How can smelling a shirt do this to me?' Buffy though wildly as another one shook her body. Then it hit her. Faces and feelings. Angel, Parker, Riley, Spike. Her lovers. Hugging her mother. Eating Willow's cookies. Training with Giles. Dancing at the Bronze. Every positive, wonderful moment that she ever had rushed through her body, drowning her in warmth and pleasure and love.
Finally it was over, and she curled into a fetal position, hugging her knees to her chest, too tired and boneless to even think, much less move. Enough blood rushed back to her brain for her to wonder idly before she fell asleep, "What the hell is going on?"
***
Spike felt Buffy's pleasure so intensely that he nearly crashed his car. He was forced to pull over onto the shoulder of the highway, grasping the steering wheel until his knuckles were white, gasping for unneeded breath.
"What..the fuck.was that..all about?" Spike gasped when it was finally done. "Jesus Christ, what in bloody hell was that girl doing?"
He felt her fall asleep and he wanted to fall asleep too. He was exhausted, like they had just gone a dozen rounds with each other-fighting and fucking both. He knew she wasn't sleeping with anybody else, and there was no way she could have that many orgasms by herself. He knew that from experience.
He also knew that it would be the death of him if it hit him like that again while he was driving.
When he was sure she was going to stay asleep, he carefully pulled back onto the road. He had also experienced her pain and grief earlier that day. Fortunately that wasn't nearly intense as the latter experience. It hadn't lasted nearly as long. Spike figured that meant that she had more love than pain in her life.
He hoped that's what it meant.