A Slayer Lost (4/11: En Flagrante Delictum)
Angelus angelus1317@hotmail.com
See first chapter for disclaimer, etc.
~*~
On the third day, he told her what to expect. They laid still on the bed, but the towels had been long since removed. She was scared, as could be expected, as she curled up in his arms and listened quietly as he told her the tale of his own turning.
"I wasn't what you'd expect - I was a right bloody wanker at that age, I was - no better than that sodding poofter in L.A. Wrote poetry, had no spine, wandered around feeling sorry for myself."
"Somehow, I just can't imagine you that way," she mused, her head propped up against her arms, which laid across Spike's chest as her lower body straddled him.
"Believe it, pet. Maybe, if you're good, I'll let you read some of my poems one day."
"You still have them?!" she exclaimed in incredulous disbelief. He shrugged.
"Man can't forget his roots, no matter how pathetic. Anyways, I was in love with this rich bint, name of Cecily. You know her now as Halfrek, but that's another story altogether. Snotty one, she was. Wouldn't give me the time of day. But I followed her around like a bloomin' puppy dog I did. The night I finally got the stones to finally tell her how I felt, she shot me down. A few hours down the road, I ran into Drusilla. Quite literally, actually. She was...god, I don't know how to put it. She called to me. There was nothing left for me in that world, so...I let her bite me." He chuckled, recalling the memory. "Screamed like a baby I did. Few night later, I was out on the prowl with Dru, Darla, and your precious Angelus."
"What's it like?" she asked, choosing to pointedly ignore him calling Angel 'her precious'. If he didn't know by now that he was the only one for her then it was his own fault. She suspected, however, that he did truly know - that the comment had just been made to annoy her. All the more reason to ignore it.
"It's like..." Spike paused, one hand idly reaching up to cup her cheek and caress the side of her face with his thumb. "It's hard to vocalize, ducks. You wake up that first time and everything's different. People aren't just people any more - they're Happy Meals with legs. It seems horrid now, but you gotta remember - your soul goes along with your mortality. That's the part that scares most people away from being turned - the prospect of losing their last link to the human world; what makes them who they are."
"Part of my soul's floating around up there somewhere - why should I care if I lose the rest of it?"
"Only if you're sure."
"I'm sure."
"Allright then."
They spent the rest of the day like that - curled up in his bed, limbs entwined, heart in tune. In between their frequent rounds of slow, lazy lovemaking, he told her more about his turning and its aftereffects. He told her about crawling his way out of his own grave, at which she shuddered, remembering her own experience. He told her about Darla, and about Angel, and about Dru. He told her about his first kill. All the while, she listened silently, not judging, not regretting the decision she had made - the decision that very soon would be irrevocable. Then he told her what would happen to the two of them.
"We'll be at it all day, kitten - you, me, and Peaches - hunting at night and shagging during the day. We'll got to Rome, to Greece, to Italy - wherever you please. Can you imagine a better life? It's a beautiful thing."
Buffy shivered, but not from the cold. It *was* a beautiful thing, what Spike had just described. She was eager, now - eager to complete this transformation and make her way down to Los Angeles - the City of Angels - to wake up enfolded in the arms of the only two men she had ever loved.
She pounced on Spike, then. Surprised, he offered no resistance. She rode him hard and fast, and they surrendered themselves to the rhythm once again.
"Wow," she commented about fifteen minutes later, once they'd caught their breath.
"Mmmm," was all Spike could manage out, rolling over to bury his face in her neck and snake an arm across her stomach.
"I love you," Buffy murmured as she snuggled closer to her lover. In shock, Spike sat up.
"What?" he exclaimed.
"I love you," Buffy repeated. "Isn't that what you wanted to hear?" He pulled her into a gentle, loving kiss.
"More than you'll ever know," he said. They lay back, content to fall asleep until the sun set.
"Good night, sweetheart."
"Good night, Spike."
Angelus angelus1317@hotmail.com
See first chapter for disclaimer, etc.
~*~
On the third day, he told her what to expect. They laid still on the bed, but the towels had been long since removed. She was scared, as could be expected, as she curled up in his arms and listened quietly as he told her the tale of his own turning.
"I wasn't what you'd expect - I was a right bloody wanker at that age, I was - no better than that sodding poofter in L.A. Wrote poetry, had no spine, wandered around feeling sorry for myself."
"Somehow, I just can't imagine you that way," she mused, her head propped up against her arms, which laid across Spike's chest as her lower body straddled him.
"Believe it, pet. Maybe, if you're good, I'll let you read some of my poems one day."
"You still have them?!" she exclaimed in incredulous disbelief. He shrugged.
"Man can't forget his roots, no matter how pathetic. Anyways, I was in love with this rich bint, name of Cecily. You know her now as Halfrek, but that's another story altogether. Snotty one, she was. Wouldn't give me the time of day. But I followed her around like a bloomin' puppy dog I did. The night I finally got the stones to finally tell her how I felt, she shot me down. A few hours down the road, I ran into Drusilla. Quite literally, actually. She was...god, I don't know how to put it. She called to me. There was nothing left for me in that world, so...I let her bite me." He chuckled, recalling the memory. "Screamed like a baby I did. Few night later, I was out on the prowl with Dru, Darla, and your precious Angelus."
"What's it like?" she asked, choosing to pointedly ignore him calling Angel 'her precious'. If he didn't know by now that he was the only one for her then it was his own fault. She suspected, however, that he did truly know - that the comment had just been made to annoy her. All the more reason to ignore it.
"It's like..." Spike paused, one hand idly reaching up to cup her cheek and caress the side of her face with his thumb. "It's hard to vocalize, ducks. You wake up that first time and everything's different. People aren't just people any more - they're Happy Meals with legs. It seems horrid now, but you gotta remember - your soul goes along with your mortality. That's the part that scares most people away from being turned - the prospect of losing their last link to the human world; what makes them who they are."
"Part of my soul's floating around up there somewhere - why should I care if I lose the rest of it?"
"Only if you're sure."
"I'm sure."
"Allright then."
They spent the rest of the day like that - curled up in his bed, limbs entwined, heart in tune. In between their frequent rounds of slow, lazy lovemaking, he told her more about his turning and its aftereffects. He told her about crawling his way out of his own grave, at which she shuddered, remembering her own experience. He told her about Darla, and about Angel, and about Dru. He told her about his first kill. All the while, she listened silently, not judging, not regretting the decision she had made - the decision that very soon would be irrevocable. Then he told her what would happen to the two of them.
"We'll be at it all day, kitten - you, me, and Peaches - hunting at night and shagging during the day. We'll got to Rome, to Greece, to Italy - wherever you please. Can you imagine a better life? It's a beautiful thing."
Buffy shivered, but not from the cold. It *was* a beautiful thing, what Spike had just described. She was eager, now - eager to complete this transformation and make her way down to Los Angeles - the City of Angels - to wake up enfolded in the arms of the only two men she had ever loved.
She pounced on Spike, then. Surprised, he offered no resistance. She rode him hard and fast, and they surrendered themselves to the rhythm once again.
"Wow," she commented about fifteen minutes later, once they'd caught their breath.
"Mmmm," was all Spike could manage out, rolling over to bury his face in her neck and snake an arm across her stomach.
"I love you," Buffy murmured as she snuggled closer to her lover. In shock, Spike sat up.
"What?" he exclaimed.
"I love you," Buffy repeated. "Isn't that what you wanted to hear?" He pulled her into a gentle, loving kiss.
"More than you'll ever know," he said. They lay back, content to fall asleep until the sun set.
"Good night, sweetheart."
"Good night, Spike."
