Disclaimers: If this were mine, I'd be rich, I tell you, rich!
Feedback: I really, really, really appreciate every piece of feedback I get. As long as it's positive.
Author's Note: Sorry that this chapter took so friggin' long . . . but I've been rather large on the stress lately, and when you get home at eight at night, you don't really feel like writing, you know? All right, in this chapter, Spike grows a pair. A real, honest to God pair! Hope you enjoy . . . and remember to stick it to the man, man.
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He ran through the cemetery, dodging the tombstones and upturned tree roots, making sure not to trip. The foreboding crypt loomed in the distance, and he gave a small sigh of relief.
'Home, sweet crypt,' he thought wearily, as he opened the concrete door and stepped into his musty resting-place. Closing the door firmly, he loped over to the living room recliner and slumped onto it, relishing the feeling of the soft cushions against his aching muscles. He sat for a moment, closing his eyes, enjoying the quiet.
'Ponce.'
Spike shook his head in disgust, running his fingers over his scalp, detangling the mass of bleached-blonde waves.
'I'm in the mood for a little visit, you said. Take the time to walk to her place, sit down, have a little chat with her mother . . . and then you high tail it when she shows up. You sicken me.'
"Yeah, well, what was I supposed to do? Let her find me there, on the couch, sippin' a nice cup o' cocoa with her mum? Don't be a stupid git."
'Oh, and it's so much better for her to walk in and find that, not only were you in her house without her permission, but you ran away as soon as she came home. Through the kitchen window, no less! Real manly there, Spike. Show the girl who's boss.'
"I don't -need- permission," he huffed angrily, "I do what I damn well please. And I didn't go there to show her who's boss, I came there to . . . well, maybe I did, but that wasn't the whole reason. I wanted Buffy to know that I'm the one in control of our little . . . situation. I'm not her whipping boy, you know."
Spike was vaguely aware that this conversation he was having with himself was a trifle odd, and that had anyone walked in at the moment, they would have thought him daft. No matter.
'Then don't let yourself be! Stand up for once, you worthless nancy boy . . . look at you, you can't even defend yourself against your own mind. Pathetic, s'what you are.'
"I'm not pathetic," he mumbled, resting his head in the palm of his hands, "I'm in love. I can't just -"
The door to the crypt slammed open and the words stuck in his throat. The door collided with the wall of the room, a loud boom resounding throughout the residence. Spike leapt from the chair and spun on his heels, turning to face whomever it was that had broken in and disturbed his train of thought.
"What the hell were you doing at my house?!"
The furious Slayer stood at the entrance, her hands placed on her hips in a gesture of annoyance.
"I-" Spike started, only to be cut off once more.
"What gives you the right to come over to -my- house when I'm not there and talk to my mother? How dare you!"
"Now listen, I-"
"I can't even trust you not to barge in on my personal life, in my house, when I'm not around! I can't believe you! You stupid, worthless, selfish little -"
"Hey, now, that's not -"
"Fair? It's more than fair! You deserve a lot worse than that after you -"
"Bloody hell, Slayer," he yelled, "can't I get a word in edgewise?"
She stood still, panting, her face beet red. She glared at him, her eyes narrowing in contempt.
"Doesn't feel so good being interrupted, does it? I'm so sorry that I barged in on your precious personal life, because you're always respecting my privacy, you know."
"It's different with me. You're an -"
"Evil, soulless thing, I know. You've told me a million times, Slayer, gets old."
Spike sighed, burying his hands in his duster's pockets and turning his face to the floor.
"I wasn't going to do anything, Buffy, I just came to . . . see you. That's all. I was gonna leave but your mum invited me in, told me to stay and wait for you. And the fact that I fled, out of the window not less, says more about you than it does me. But I'm glad you're here . . . we need to talk."
She crossed her arms over her chest, annoyed.
"So? Talk already."
"All right, then. We kissed tonight, you know it and I know it. No use denying things, Slayer. There is something between us. What I want to know is what."
"What, what?"
"What is there between us . . . to you, I mean. What do I mean to you?"
"I . . ." she shook her head, flustered, "I don't know."
"That's not an answer, Buffy, I want the truth."
"I'm telling you the truth. I just . . . I'm confused. I don't know what to feel. When you kissed me . . ." she took a deep breath, steadying herself. "When we kissed, it was . . . nice. Really nice, but you're . . . we couldn't work. I don't think we could, I mean . . . God, do I have to talk about this?"
He raised one eyebrow questioningly. "What do you think?"
"Fine. Bottom line; I don't know." Buffy stuck out her lower lip, pouting. "Can't we just keep it at the kissing? I'm okay with the kissing." She leaned towards him, intending to capture his lips within hers, but he pushed her away warily, his face stoic.
"I can't do this. Until you're sure . . . you know what you feel, what you want, I can't do this. It's not fair to you, and it's certainly not fair to me. No playing tiddlywinks with my feelings, pet, s'not allowed. I really do love you, and I . . . can't do this until you're ready to be with me, heart and soul." He paused, his eyes tracing her features, attempting to read her expression. "You understand, right?"
"Yeah, I . . . I understand. Not really with the tiddlywinks comment, but yeah, I get the gist of it. I'm gonna, um, I'm gonna go. Mom's expecting me."
She took shaky steps towards the door, her face pale and drawn.
"Buffy? Have a nice night, all right?"
"Yeah . . . you, too."
And with that, she left.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
To be continued . . .
Feedback: I really, really, really appreciate every piece of feedback I get. As long as it's positive.
Author's Note: Sorry that this chapter took so friggin' long . . . but I've been rather large on the stress lately, and when you get home at eight at night, you don't really feel like writing, you know? All right, in this chapter, Spike grows a pair. A real, honest to God pair! Hope you enjoy . . . and remember to stick it to the man, man.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
He ran through the cemetery, dodging the tombstones and upturned tree roots, making sure not to trip. The foreboding crypt loomed in the distance, and he gave a small sigh of relief.
'Home, sweet crypt,' he thought wearily, as he opened the concrete door and stepped into his musty resting-place. Closing the door firmly, he loped over to the living room recliner and slumped onto it, relishing the feeling of the soft cushions against his aching muscles. He sat for a moment, closing his eyes, enjoying the quiet.
'Ponce.'
Spike shook his head in disgust, running his fingers over his scalp, detangling the mass of bleached-blonde waves.
'I'm in the mood for a little visit, you said. Take the time to walk to her place, sit down, have a little chat with her mother . . . and then you high tail it when she shows up. You sicken me.'
"Yeah, well, what was I supposed to do? Let her find me there, on the couch, sippin' a nice cup o' cocoa with her mum? Don't be a stupid git."
'Oh, and it's so much better for her to walk in and find that, not only were you in her house without her permission, but you ran away as soon as she came home. Through the kitchen window, no less! Real manly there, Spike. Show the girl who's boss.'
"I don't -need- permission," he huffed angrily, "I do what I damn well please. And I didn't go there to show her who's boss, I came there to . . . well, maybe I did, but that wasn't the whole reason. I wanted Buffy to know that I'm the one in control of our little . . . situation. I'm not her whipping boy, you know."
Spike was vaguely aware that this conversation he was having with himself was a trifle odd, and that had anyone walked in at the moment, they would have thought him daft. No matter.
'Then don't let yourself be! Stand up for once, you worthless nancy boy . . . look at you, you can't even defend yourself against your own mind. Pathetic, s'what you are.'
"I'm not pathetic," he mumbled, resting his head in the palm of his hands, "I'm in love. I can't just -"
The door to the crypt slammed open and the words stuck in his throat. The door collided with the wall of the room, a loud boom resounding throughout the residence. Spike leapt from the chair and spun on his heels, turning to face whomever it was that had broken in and disturbed his train of thought.
"What the hell were you doing at my house?!"
The furious Slayer stood at the entrance, her hands placed on her hips in a gesture of annoyance.
"I-" Spike started, only to be cut off once more.
"What gives you the right to come over to -my- house when I'm not there and talk to my mother? How dare you!"
"Now listen, I-"
"I can't even trust you not to barge in on my personal life, in my house, when I'm not around! I can't believe you! You stupid, worthless, selfish little -"
"Hey, now, that's not -"
"Fair? It's more than fair! You deserve a lot worse than that after you -"
"Bloody hell, Slayer," he yelled, "can't I get a word in edgewise?"
She stood still, panting, her face beet red. She glared at him, her eyes narrowing in contempt.
"Doesn't feel so good being interrupted, does it? I'm so sorry that I barged in on your precious personal life, because you're always respecting my privacy, you know."
"It's different with me. You're an -"
"Evil, soulless thing, I know. You've told me a million times, Slayer, gets old."
Spike sighed, burying his hands in his duster's pockets and turning his face to the floor.
"I wasn't going to do anything, Buffy, I just came to . . . see you. That's all. I was gonna leave but your mum invited me in, told me to stay and wait for you. And the fact that I fled, out of the window not less, says more about you than it does me. But I'm glad you're here . . . we need to talk."
She crossed her arms over her chest, annoyed.
"So? Talk already."
"All right, then. We kissed tonight, you know it and I know it. No use denying things, Slayer. There is something between us. What I want to know is what."
"What, what?"
"What is there between us . . . to you, I mean. What do I mean to you?"
"I . . ." she shook her head, flustered, "I don't know."
"That's not an answer, Buffy, I want the truth."
"I'm telling you the truth. I just . . . I'm confused. I don't know what to feel. When you kissed me . . ." she took a deep breath, steadying herself. "When we kissed, it was . . . nice. Really nice, but you're . . . we couldn't work. I don't think we could, I mean . . . God, do I have to talk about this?"
He raised one eyebrow questioningly. "What do you think?"
"Fine. Bottom line; I don't know." Buffy stuck out her lower lip, pouting. "Can't we just keep it at the kissing? I'm okay with the kissing." She leaned towards him, intending to capture his lips within hers, but he pushed her away warily, his face stoic.
"I can't do this. Until you're sure . . . you know what you feel, what you want, I can't do this. It's not fair to you, and it's certainly not fair to me. No playing tiddlywinks with my feelings, pet, s'not allowed. I really do love you, and I . . . can't do this until you're ready to be with me, heart and soul." He paused, his eyes tracing her features, attempting to read her expression. "You understand, right?"
"Yeah, I . . . I understand. Not really with the tiddlywinks comment, but yeah, I get the gist of it. I'm gonna, um, I'm gonna go. Mom's expecting me."
She took shaky steps towards the door, her face pale and drawn.
"Buffy? Have a nice night, all right?"
"Yeah . . . you, too."
And with that, she left.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
To be continued . . .