This is an edited chapter. The NC-17 version of this chapter can be found here: http://www.geocities.com/summersomnambulist/fiction/jlp5.html please come back and review if you enjoy it.
Watching me grow small, I watch me disappear
Slipping out my ordinary world, out my ordinary eyes
Yeah, slipping out the ordinary me into someone else's life
Into someone else's life ...
'Watching Me Fall' by The Cure
"Your neck's red.." he said absently, placing a kiss upon the affected area.
"Oh. Is it? The water was a little too hot." she lied easily. He accepted her explanation. She thought he was going to go to sleep then, and she let out a relieved sigh. But instead he asked another question.
"Do you love me, Buffy?"
"Of course I love you." she answered automatically.
"Then why do you let him touch you?" his voice was suddenly accusatory, none of the usual post-coital purring was there.
"What?" Buffy blinked, she just wanted to go to sleep, her vision blurring darkly around the edges, she could feel the bed sucking her in, but his anger made her nervous. Perhaps sleeping beside him wasn't such a good idea, "I don't know what you're talking about Angel."
"Yes you do." he hissed. His body was still pressed up against hers, but it was stiffer as if he was getting ready to fight with her. Fist fight. People who loved you didn't hit you --people who loved you didn't hurt you-- she must be wrong. He was just upset. Buffy leant over to place a kiss on his lips but he jerked his head away. She sighed.
"Angel, I've never let him--" Flashes came suddenly to her, kisses, touches, hands, limbs, an arm around her shoulder, a tongue brushing hers. All Spike. All real. She gasped, "Oh God."
"You said 'always', and 'forever'." Angel suddenly seemed strangely far away, his voice strangely calm, "Did that mean nothing to you? Was it a lie?"
"No Angel," Buffy protested, "I love you."
"He's a monster." Angel stated as if he hadn't heard her words, "Is that what you want, a monster?" his voice was growing colder, "He can never love you, monsters can't love. I mean, look at me."
Buffy reached a hand out and touched Angel's bare chest. She ran her fingers along the well-defined muscles with a pleading look in her eyes. It said she'd do anything to make him happy again. To make him stop speaking. To make him stop telling the... truth?
This time he didn't jerk away from her touch, instead he moved towards it until he was crowding her. She pressed her other hand against his chest but he grabbed both her wrists. She stared at him --he loved her-- for a split second longer than she should have and suddenly he was on top of her. Straddling her waist. The thin sheet the only thing between their naked bodies. He was like a dead-weight over her --funny--, stifling and frightening.
"But maybe that's what you want." He growled, face suddenly growing ridges, eyes turning gold and canines elongating, "Do you want to be touched by a monster?" he pushed her arms down into the bed, his body weighing her down. Terror ripped through her as a thousand possible scenarios of what was about to happen tore through her mind.
"Angel! I love you!" She called, he paused.
"Always?" his tone was calm.
"Yes. Always."
"Good." he said, then he dipped his head down, fangs extended. She stared as his mouth moved past hers and down to the curve of her throat. She felt a sharp sting in her neck then the world slowly dissolved to black around her even as she tried to stay awake.
Buffy stepped through the doors of the Bronze. Despite the fact that this was supposed to be a proper date, with all the trimmings, somehow she still seemed to have managed her way to the venue alone. But that was better than it seemed. Catering to a romantic fantasy, she'd love to see his jaw drop as he saw her across a crowded room. And with what she was wearing his jaw had better drop.
She slid between tables, crammed so close together that she found herself brushing up against people's backs. Most ignored her, but a few boys --boys, not men-- leered a little as she passed. She simply offered them a sweet smile, if they did more than look she was easily capable of setting them strait. Besides, it was nice to be appreciated sometimes.
She slid onto a stool at an empty table. The only empty table in fact, which with the crowds so large was a blessing. They'd be hard pressed to keep it all night, but she was sure Spike could manage it. He had no problem with being rude. And she had no problem with letting him be rude. Which should have bothered her more than it did. Buffy slid her hands over the polished tabletop and let the gentle thrum of music, barely heard over the talking, into her head. She thought about getting a drink, but decided against it. Make-up smudged. Arching one hand up she began to tap impatiently upon the table, her fingernails making the noise louder. She was angry rather than worried. She knew that Spike wouldn't stand her up. What else did he have to do?
"Come on, hurry it up, I've got somewhere to be." Spike growled, somewhat annoyed that a watch really didn't go with his outfit. He didn't want to think about what the Slayer would do if he was late. He glanced at each of the people he was doing business with without really seeing them. His attention was mainly focused on the box one of them held.
"Got a date with your girl?" one of them asked. He was standing in the shadows in that way that many new Vampires did. Not with stealthy cunning, but trying to appear mysterious and frightening. It seemed to take modern Vamps a few years to realise that not everything was like it was in the movies.
"Shut-up Wayne." the closest Vampire said, in an exasperated tone the indicated he had to say it often. He was holding a wad of bills and counting them patiently. When he stopped to reprimand 'Wayne' he sighed and began counting from the beginning once more. Spike growled again, a low rumbling noise coming more from his chest than his throat.
"Its all there. I keep my word."
"Huh." the Vampire snorted, flipping through the money again.
"Ian's not very trusting." Wayne offered insightfully, as if he was feeling left out. For a moment he was like the man he must have been in life, a brown-nosing weasel. Perhaps the man had thought inviting a demon into his body would change that. No improvements so far.
"You'll have to forgive us..." the last Vampire said, his voice soft and non-threatening. Probably indicating that he was the most powerful of the three. Quiet sincerity was usually more frightening with evil things than muscles and threats. It meant they knew something; that they were going to win. The Vampire was standing in between the other two enough to show he was being protected by them, perhaps his power was not physical. The protection indicated that he was probably their Sire, "...For being careful, Spike, word has it you like to terminate some of our kind now."
"Gossip." Spike lied.
"I don't think so." the Vampire raised his shoulders in a shrug, "But as long as you don't come after me and mine, I'll let it slide."
"Lucky for me."
"Yes." the Vampire agreed, as if he hadn't sensed the sarcasm.
"Its all there, master." the second Vampire, Ian, confirmed. Spike grimaced, perhaps they all had a case of Bela Lugosi-lust. Wayne stepped out the shadows with more flourish of his long coat than was needed and handed the box in his hands over to his 'master'. It was cardboard and on the outside looked like nothing special. But Spike could smell its insides, and he knew he wasn't getting duped. He reached out his hands expectantly, but the 'master' pulled the box back with a cutting laugh.
"Look--" Spike said, his anger beyond growling now.
"Please, please, Spike." the Vampire said placatingly, raising a free hand and pressing down the air beneath it as if trying to push down the anger dancing around the ally, "...I just want to ask you a question first."
"I came here 'cause my usual supplier is out of town and recommended you, but if you're not going to give me what I came for then..." he left the threat hanging.
"Calm down." the Vampire said, as if he was talking to a petulant child, "One answer to one question is all I ask. Then you'll get your goods."
"Ask your question. Doesn't mean I'm going to answer."
"Fair enough."
Spike thought of crossing his arms, or striking some other threatening pose, but he didn't really need to. It seemed now as if he'd killed more Vampires from patrolling with the Slayer than he had humans with Drusilla. That wasn't true, of course, but sometimes it felt that way. He wasn't going to give this Vampire the satisfaction of seeing him feeling threatened.
"Is she a good fuck?"
Spike dived forward, throwing the two bodyguard Vampires away as soon as they touched him. He didn't even watch where they landed. Unconsciously his human mask slithered away, bearing his demon face to the world. He grabbed the no-longer protected Vampire around the neck, squeezing until bruises visibly began to appear on the flawless skin. The Vamp's widened, blood vessels bursting along the whites. After a moment he seemed to compose himself, and grabbing onto Spike's arms he lifted himself up to kick vulnerable stomach. Spike let go and stepped back.
"Defending your human's honour seems a little futile Spike. I'm assuming you have fucked her. Pretty little thing, I'm tempted to give her a try myself..." he raised a hand to stop the again advancing Vampire, "...I only said tempted. I'm not human bait. I asked the question as a ...friendly... warning. There are plenty of people who'd like to do a Slayer, and you if you're guarding her."
"Slayer can look after herself."
"That, I don't doubt."
"Why are you so concerned about her, or me even?"
"No-one likes to loose a customer." the Vampire deadpanned for a second before letting out a loud barking laugh. Once his face had smoothed out once more, his eyes becoming passionless, he continued, "You disgrace your former master, your Sire, your mate, you befoul the blood of Aurelius that flows in your veins. I warn you of the danger facing you, and your whore, because you could have changed your mind. Joined the winning side. But I see you will not." in a sudden movement he picked up the long forgotten box and threw it towards Spike, who caught it deftly, "Take your blood! It is yours for now. But one day I will be draining it from your veins."
"You fanatical types love the sound of your own voice, don't you?" Spike tucked the box under one arm and turned, confident that the blatant lunatic behind him wouldn't attack.
"If she's not a good fuck, a really good fuck, then she's not worth it, Spike! She's not worth it!" the Vampire's words echoed along the walls after Spike, but he ignored them. Storming through the back-alleys and abandoned streets of Sunnydale until he lost his rage. Or at least pulled a leash around its neck. He collapsed against a wall. Panting for something other than oxygen, he tore the box open and pulled out a sack of blood. He sunk his canines into the bag and dragged with his mouth against the plastic until semi-warm blood filled his mouth, spilling out of the corners and trailing down his cheeks, and neck, to soak into his collar.
"Would you like to dance?"
Buffy's eyes glided up from the table, and over the body of the person who was inquiring. The faint hope that Spike might have been using a funny voice -- funnier voice-- was flattened as soon as she caught a glimpse of the loose-fitting trousers and untucked flowing shirt covering a tall but slim figure. Was she that much of a muscles girl? Unabashedly checking out his body before his face, her eyes finally reached that destination. Untidy blond hair flopped over his head in a way that could be described as cute, true-brown eyes that matched his shirt stared at her pleadingly. And she felt nothing. No secret twinge at the face of a pretty man, directed at her. Was she that taken with Spike? Nah.
"Alex..." Buffy smiled, her lips curling just slightly at the corners as one finger traced patterns on the table.
"You remember me." he sounded delighted. It was almost too cruel to play with him. Almost.
"Of course." Buffy purred, turning around on the stool to give Alex the full benefit of her dress. If Spike wasn't coming to admire it, at least someone could. Perhaps something of her anger showed in her face because for a moment the boy looked unsure.
"I thought you'd have forgotten." he said, voice suddenly small and his eyes impossibly wide. She wondered if it was an act, or if he really was so insecure, "You did last time."
"I'm sorry..." Buffy pouted, shoving her lower lip out, and slid from the stool. There was a good difference in their heights so Buffy could look up at him through her eyelashes, "Let me make it up to you with a dance."
"That would work." Alex said, smiling again.
Buffy led him out onto the dance floor, hips swaying provocatively. Why dress like you were a hooker if you couldn't move like one? When she'd cleared a space in the centre of the masses she turned around and moved into the circle of his arms. He placed both just above her waist, leaving her to lean into his chest. It was comfortable, but she felt no spark. Nothing. It was like dancing with a friend or a relative, nice to be close to someone, to feel the gentle beat of their heart against her cheat -- assuming they had a heart beat -- and their breath going in and out. But none of it felt sexual. Perhaps Angel had broken her after-all, maybe hurting her in her dreams was his way of hardening her in reality. It was a disturbing thought, but not a frightening one. How could you be frightened if you'd been trained not to feel? Sometimes being pretentious was comforting.
Spike pushed aside a group of intoxicated teenagers as he stepped into the Bronze. The light was a goldeny-brown and reflected off the pale skin of many of the people in a flattering way. He reached a hand up and ran it over his hair, making sure every curl was tamed into place. Slipping between the people was easy, but he couldn't avoid brushing against a few. They were like one big herd, moving and pressing against each other. He scanned the crowd at the bar quickly, though he did not expect to find her there. He then dragged his gaze over the tables, all full with people. She wasn't there either. As he stepped further into the club to look up at the balcony, his eyes caught the dance floor. It alone was decorated with a harlequin of coloured light that moved about almost as quickly as the people. In the centre a almost blindingly bright light shone down onto the floor, as if it was intended for the nondescript band, but had slipped down to illuminate something far more interesting. He couldn't blame it.
In the centre of that circle of light she was dancing. Her skin looks a tone lighter under the glare, but even that could no steel its tanned quality. It was a mystery to him how she managed to keep it so when she spent so much time out in the dark. She was holding her arms above her head and her body was swaying like that of a snake, charming its prey. Hips moving in synch with the distant beat of the music. The material clung to her like the clichéd second skin. It was blood red. Not the darker brown-red of dried blood, or the purple-red of television blood, true blood red. It sat just under her arms and was strapless, exposing both shoulders. Then it clung to her body until mid-thigh level. Spike felt twin desires of lust and protectiveness swell in his undead chest. He wanted to cover her up and fuck her all at the same time.
He shook his head, removing the clouded thoughts and wants. He didn't need to stand there and stare at her anymore. She was his. He could touch her, taste her, and she would let him. He began to feel very aware of the blood he'd just drunk, flowing around his body. Setting a smirk onto his face he took one confident stride forwards onto the dance floor. Then he saw him.
A boy, probably about Buffy's age, wrapped an arm around her middle. His hand landed on her hip and stayed there. She leant into his shoulder, and that tiny movement invoked a barely-noticed growl from Spike. His eyes were wide as for a split-second he just stared, motionless. Split-seconds don't last long. A second growl, louder and longer than the first roared through his chest, causing a few couples dancing near him to move away. Not all people in Sunnydale were stupid. He marched forward, not noticing as he knocked one pair over, or gave a violent shove to someone's back. His eyes were only fixed on one spot. One person.
Buffy heard the growl a second before she turned to see him. A smile grew and then faded from her face within a moment. She'd wanted him jealous, but now he looked angry enough to kill. His eyes weren't trained on her though, they were boring into Alex. Either the boy was ignoring, or he hadn't noticed because spotting her inactivity suddenly Alex turned towards her. Maybe he was going to ask what was wrong, but the words never got a chance to leave his mouth.
Spike ripped the couple apart without even touching Buffy. Irrationally his rage wasn't focused on her. He glared into the face of the boy he'd pulled from her, into fear-filled brown eyes, and he growled again. He felt his human mask twitching to slip off, and his demon face crawling to the surface. He was paused by a strong grip on his left arm, the hand of which held a fistful of the boy's shirt.
"Spike..." a soft voice, coaxed. He ignored it, "Spike...." the voice said more urgently, the grip on his arm tightening. With painful slowness he forced back the anger, forced back the demon, pulled the human visage back around himself tightly like a winter coat. He turned his head to look at Buffy. She smiled softly as she got his attention, her hands immediately loosening.
"Let the boy go." she said calmly, her hand beginning to stroke his arm instead as if trying to soothe him. Perhaps if she had said something else he would have forgotten all about his hostage, but her words just drew his attention back to the boy. He spoke slowly, but made every word to sound like a threat,
"Don't. Touch. Her. Ever. Again." then he uncurled his fingers and left the boy to stumble backwards into a nervous crowd of onlookers. Spike stared after him for a brief moment before turning to Buffy, drinking in the sight of her once again. She was frowning at him, but he didn't care. Her lip was pushed out in an adorable pout, her hair loose and framing her face in golden layers. He grabbed her arm and pulled her close, though she would have come willingly. She stared up at him as he pressed one hand into her back, their bodies together. He moved his head down the few inches and claimed her mouth with a kiss. His lips pressed against hers as if he was trying to devour her whole, tongue thrusting into her mouth as his spare hand came up to the back of her head to pull her closer. There was no moment of hesitation from her, instead she looped her arms around his neck and ran her hands through his perfect hair, kissing back.
When the kiss was over they found the world around them back to normal. Most people were giving them a wide berth, but there was dancing again. They stared at each other for a long minute, arms still around each other, before Spike spoke.
"You can't see him again either."
"You can't tell me who I can and can't see." Buffy protested, the happy afterglow from the kiss fading fast and leaving her frowning once more.
"Even if you're going to use them to make me angry?"
"Okay." she sighed, pulling her arms away from him. "It was wrong of me to bait you like that. I'm sorry. But it was harmless. I'm with you, if I wanted to be with someone else then I would be."
"I thought you did want to be with someone else."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing...." Spike said, not because he wanted to avoid an argument, but because bringing up the great poof never really solved anything, "I overreacted. But just the thought of..." he clenched his fist then let it go and sighed, "Forget it."
"I will." she comforted, reaching out to place a hand on his chest. He blinked, as if startled, then looked down slowly at her hand, which was now roaming about as if it had a life of its own. She took in the figure hugging black t-shirt with lustful appreciation, but the overlying open blue shirt was the one that snatched her attention. It begged to be removed. Tentatively she ran her hand under it and along Spike's side, to his back. He continued to watch her, speechless, and almost panicked. In another situation that look on his face could have been funny, now it was endearing. Buffy pressed the full length of her body up against his, legs brushing legs, stomach to stomach and chest to chest. As he was a little taller she tilted her head and snuggled it under his chin. She worked his back with her fingertips, sliding her other hand around him so that both could play across the t-shirt covered flesh.
"Uh, luv.." he didn't want to object, but he felt the words rising on his lips. Sooner or later her teasing would turn him insane.
"Shh." she insisted, before requesting, "Dance with me."
As if he was frightened of hurting her, he slowly wrapped his arms around her. One hand fell at the small of her back, the other where the dress met skin at her shoulders. He rubbed the bare skin with a thumb, but didn't try anything more sexual. Her pressed against him was enough. And clearly she could tell that.
"Happy to see me?" she asked, a teasing tone in her voice.
"Always." he said, barely avoiding the roll of his eyes, "You're never so bloody happy to see me though." he stated.
"Maybe I missed you..." she suggested, pinching his back once to see the expression on his face. He acted as if he hadn't felt it.
"Yeah. Maybe. Did you have a good time with your friend yesterday?"
"Her name is Willow, and yes. But when did you start caring whether I had a good time or not?"
"I care." Spike said, his voice not exactly arguing his case. His little show of violence seemed to have pushed them back a little.
"Uh huh. Just stop talking and dance." Buffy ordered. Surprisingly Spike complied, perhaps something was wrong. He loved to argue. In fact despite the almost-fight he was being very well behaved.
They swayed to the music for a while, it was a slow-dance that neither of them favoured much. All around them couples were snuggling up to one another, looking starry eyed. It was nauseating. After a long moment of silence Spike decided to speak again.
"What happens next?" his question elicited a frown from Buffy and she pressed up against him a little firmer.
"Funny..." she said, voice conversationally-teasing, "You don't seem eager to leave."
"Depends what on what we were leaving to do..." He pressed back, letting her know what she was getting into if she wanted to tread this path. She gasped and he smiled, "Besides, you don't seem so keen yourself."
Buffy groaned, not with pleasure but with well-natured disgust. She dug her nails into his back in retaliation, and where the flesh met material, bit his neck covertly, offering a subtle lick to the skin afterward. His grip on her tightened, a small sigh coming from between parted lips.
"You like my dress?" she asked against his chest, digging her nails in a little more.
"Yes." he breathed, the hand on the small of her back slipping down to her buttocks and kneading the soft flesh there. She froze in his arms.
"We should probably stop." Buffy said. All Spike heard was that he'd won. She'd given in first.
"Mmm..." he said, seeming to agree, or disagree, or simply enjoy. The sound wasn't very clear. They'd stopped dancing, if they'd ever really started, and were now just standing, holding each other, on the dance floor. Then he said, "Nah. Give the kiddies something to stare at."
"First you're all possessive, now you want to put on a live-show." Buffy complained, finally pulling away from him, her courage not proving to be boundless. She clasped her hands together as if they were likely to jump back onto him if she wasn't careful. Which was probably true. He watched her with carefully tamed need. He was used to her tempting then pulling back. It was only when he was in the moment that he forgot what she was like. With much self-control Buffy held a hand out and took one of Spike's. She led him, silently, away from the music and the throbbing masses to the tables filled with people who 'gladly' moved aside to give Buffy and Spike some privacy. She slid onto one stool, him onto another.
"You were late." she accused.
"Made an entrance though, didn't I?"
"Hmm. Didn't think you'd be so quick to jealousy Spikey."
"I am a demon." he explained, reaching out to a plate of fries that was left behind by the 'eager' group before them. Buffy wrinkled her nose but didn't comment, what was the point? "And anyway..." he continued, "... You remember me an' Dru."
"Yes." admitted Buffy, "But could you try and not bring her up every five seconds?"
"Like you with your Angel?" he asked, shrugging.
"What? I never talk about Angel. Ever. With you or anyone else. You're the one who keeps bring him up. Is someone insecure?"
"You don't talk, but you think about him, don't you?" Spike asked, placing another chip into his mouth and cautiously avoiding her eyes.
"No." Buffy said with conviction. Perhaps if he had been less jealous and more interested in something other than the contents of her underwear then she'd tell him about the haunting dreams. Nightmares. But he never was. And she knew if she even brought up the name Angel he'd turn off and get all defensive.
"This isn't a very romantic date, is it?" Spike asked as if he honestly didn't know the answer.
"Violence, dry humping, followed up with a round of spite."
"Okay, perhaps its a little romantic." Spike admitted. Buffy moved to slap his leg, which was jutted out and preventing people from passing. But Spike evaded her, and when she looked into his face she found him grinning.
"Oh give it a rest Spike, we all know you're evil. Are you going to get me a drink or not?" Buffy bitched, realise a split-second after she said the word 'evil' that she really didn't believe it. Was she becoming soft or was he?
"What do you want?" Spike asked, his face suddenly pleasantly charming as he stood up.
"Coke please." she said, smiling. He stepped away from the table and up to the bar. She crossed her hands on her lap, perfectly happy to wait. But almost after a full second had passed she found her eyes drawn to the crowds.
She spotted the Vampire almost straight away. He was cute enough, in that 'I-haven't-grown-into-my-limbs' kinda way. Now, of course, he never would. He was leaning a girl up against a wall and she was staring up at him with rapt attention. Something about bloodsuckers attracted people, even if they didn't know what they were. It was like her, with Spike, but she knew how to handle him. Knew what he was. This girl didn't know what she was dealing with. When the couple straightened and walked outside Buffy didn't pause to think, she just stood and followed them. She wouldn't let this girl be punished for the innocence of her desires.
When she reached the alley out back, the Vampire was kissing the girl. In his twisted mind he probably thought it'd make the kill sweeter. She scanned her surroundings and picked a broken crate as the most likely place to get a weapon from.
"Okay, let the girl go." she said in a hollow mimicry of her words to Spike a while before.
The Vampire turned around and hissed at her. Honest-to-God hissed, like something from a Vampire movie. It was rare that a Vamp actually hissed, or raised clawed hands against the sunlight. Usually they just went poof. The girl in his grip seemed to come around and stared at her suddenly-bumpy date. She screamed. In a quick flurry of movement she struggled and was let go, she ran away down the alley and disappeared.
"Slayer, right?" the Vamp asked, his voice a little slurred, "I'd prefer to eat you any day."
"Geez, do you guys get Sired stupid or something?" Buffy asked, inching around the alley, anticipating an attack at any minute. When she reached the crate she broke off a giant-splinter in readiness. The Vampire rushed her and she dodged out of the way, watching him run into a wall with a satisfactory smack. Wadda-ya-know, Vamps can get drunk.
"Hey pointy," she jeered, "I'm over here."
He turned and glared at her, nose bloodied. This time, instead of charging his hand went to a pocket of his coat, rummaging for something. Buffy frowned,
"Take anything out of your pocket and you're dust." she threatened, silently adding that he was dust anyway. The Vampire just sneered and pulled his closed fist out of the pocket. Buffy didn't take any chances. She walked forward, backhanding the Vampire and jolting him sideways, and with her other hand she plunged the wood into his chest. It was surprisingly easy.
"There goes Wayne." Spike observed, standing in the open doorway to the back of the Bronze.
Buffy paused to compose herself, drag another lung-full of air into her system, push hair out of her face, before she turned around to look at Spike. He seemed to have been addressing no-one in particular, but his eyes were fixed on the spot the Vamp had just been in.
"You knew him?" Buffy asked, curious.
"He wasn't one of my mates if that's what you're worried about."
"Really not. He was about to kill a girl."
"S'what Vampires do, luv. No need to get defensive about staking him."
"I'm not."
"Right. Shall we go back inside then?" Spike asked, keen to change the subject.
"Does it really bother you that much? You see me stake Vamps nearly every night." Buffy pointed out, placing her hands on her hips in a posture that said she wasn't moving without an answer.
"Doesn't bother me, luv. Inside?" he asked again, definitely not wanting to tell the Slayer how he knew the late Wayne.
"What's the matter Spike, you've finally got me alone and now you want to head back into the crowd..."
"You want us to be alone luv..?" Spike asked, his posture changing straight away, a smirk growing on his face. He turned fully towards her and walked forward. Buffy observed that it was the third time he'd called her 'luv' in as many minutes. Perhaps he really was insecure. When he was standing in front of her she tilted her head up to look into his face. His pupils were wide and dilated, his eyes trained on hers. His lips were inches away.
"...No..." she started to say, but his mouth cut her off. The world around her, and the distant protests died and all she could feel were his arms encircling her. Lips pressing together. Tongue and teeth playing against them. And suddenly the wall was at her back, offering support that she hadn't know she'd needed. She felt out of control and she didn't like it.
"Spike..." she sounded almost panicked, "What are you doing?"
"Proving something." he answered, kissing the side of her face.
"What?" she asked, the tone in her voice escalating a little.
"That.." he was suddenly looking into her eyes, "You're mine." he brushed his lips against hers, "And I'm yours." he kissed her other cheek, "And that we want each other." He felt her stiffen in front of him and he sighed an unneeded breath, against her throat, "Just a little demonstration, luv." he promised, "That's all."
Buffy eyes flickered shut, giving him permission silently. She felt his hands, which had been resting platonically against her waist, start moving upwards. His thumbs rubbed along her ribs softly and then across her breasts. A restless warmth appeared lower in her body, faint but demanding. She pressed herself against his hands, and he obligingly quickened his pace minutely. His fingers arrived at where her nipples were puckering the material of her dress and ran around them teasingly, until they felt almost painfully tender. Then he pinched one and she gritted her teeth together. He knew he turned her on, there was no need for her to moan and announce it to the world.
Spike watched the emotions pass over her face, her head tilting to the side and away from him. He leant forward and kissed her, to draw her back to him. It worked a little, instead of standing there and waiting she reached out and started to push under his shirt, hands seeking flesh to touch. He let her fumble for a moment before whispering against her ear,
"Open your eyes."
Slowly she did so and looked up into his face, as if she expected him to be mocking her. Faint embarrassment creasing her features, making them tense and draining any relaxation the last few minutes had brought. He simply smiled at her. A real smile, the kind he didn't reserve for just anyone. A smile that would have the demon community laughing. It was open. She hadn't realised how much he guarded his expression until she saw that smile. It was so... real... that everything else paled in comparison. Or perhaps she just felt that because the smile didn't just hold lust, but something else a lot more scary. Despite herself, she felt her own lips mirroring it. Perhaps he saw it, because suddenly his smile faltered and became self-deprecating instead of anything else that it had been before.
"Do you want to stop now?" he asked, satisfied with her reaction, but unnerved by the emotion he'd briefly seen on her face. Why couldn't this just be about sex?
"No." she breathed, her breath hot against his face. He blinked at her for a second before fingers touched his stomach and began gliding up. He felt the tension in him that he'd barely realised he was carrying, tighten, then release. It was her turn to lean forward, she dragged her tongue along his lower lip slowly until he was compelled to pull in into his mouth. He kept one of his hands on her breasts, tracing her nipples lazily, as the other travelled downwards. Her eyes drifted shut again.
"Open your eyes?" he tried to tell her again, but it came out as more of a question. She complied, and for a long moment green eyes looked into his. Then, as suddenly as if someone had flicked a switch, she was looking past him. Over one shoulder to something that was going on behind them. The world that had been dead around them came back, the sounds of club music, drunken chatter and cars assaulting their ears.
"Oh God." she gasped, and it wasn't an expression of pleasure. She struggled to get her hands out from under his shirt as he blinked at her, then she pushed him away. Far away. Physically and mentally. He turned to see what had upset her.
A Vampire had its back to them and was pressing a girl up against the opposite wall. They almost looked as if they were mirroring Buffy and Spike's previous positions. Except the girl's head flopped uselessly to the side, eyes open in death rather than surprise. And the Vampire was doing something to her exposed neck. It would have been easier to say that the Vamp was drinking her blood, but instead he seemed to be holding a bag to the two puncture wounds and collecting the crimson liquid. He was rubbing around the cut to stimulate more blood to the surface. As if sensing their attention on him he glanced behind him and smiled. He actually smiled, a friendly smile as if they were old friends. And as if he hadn't just killed a girl.
"Hey Spike. It's Ian, remember?" he said, tone conversational, "...And you're the Slayer." he said, nodding to Buffy, "... Sorry, don't know your name."
"Ian." Spike nodded, aware that things were about to get very bad, very soon.
Buffy knelt down and picked up her discarded stake that she'd used to dispatch Wayne with minutes before. She paid Spike no attention as he tried to capture it, instead walked toward Ian. The Vampire's smile faded and he spoke again.
"Hey... What's with the stake, Slayer? You kill me and Spike doesn't get his hit."
Buffy grabbed the Vampire's shoulder and pulled him away from the girl. The half-full bag of blood fell to the floor and spilt around their feet. Ian faced Buffy for a split-second, before he was dust. The dead girl's body slid down the wall and into her own blood. Buffy stared for a long moment, not sure what she felt. If she even felt again. Had Spike been distracting her so that his friend could kill this girl? How long had this been going on? Slowly she turned and looked at him.
"Look." Spike explaining, "I know this looks bad. But I don't know how that bloke knew me, or what he was doing with the bag of blood. Buffy, you have to believe me. There are plenty of demons in this town that would love you to stake me."
Buffy walked forward, his words making more sense as she thought about them. The anger that threatened to beat out of her chest at him was not starting to be directed toward the demon populous in general. Getting her to stake her boyfriend was probably just their idea of a real hoot. Spike's stance relaxed as he noticed her drop the makeshift stake halfway towards him. She believed. He'd probably tell her the truth in the future, but now didn't look like a good time. She was angry. He couldn't tell her about this wonderful thing he was doing for her yet. It was a surprise.
"You didn't know him?" she asked quietly.
"No, never seen him before in my life. Or unlife." He watched her eyes tear up and wondered if she didn't believe him.
"That girl died because I wasn't paying attention..."
"Its equally my fault, luv."
"...Right there next to us. And we couldn't even tell...."
"I'm sorry."
"Its not... your fault. Spike. Really. Its not." she stepped forward, ready to hug him before they did anything else. Her eyes caught something on the floor behind Spike. Crumpled up against the tarmac it was barely noticeable, which was probably why she hadn't until this point. A small roll of plastic bags, like the kind you put food into the fridge in. Only thicker. Images came to her mind. Wayne's closed fist coming out of his pocket, Ian holding up a bag against the girl's neck. She stopped before she reached Spike's arms.
"You knew Wayne." she stated, tears disappearing as if they'd never been there.
"Yeah..." he said slowly.
"And Wayne was with Ian." another statement, "He was telling the truth wasn't he?"
"No, Buffy--"
"Spike, lie to me now and you're dust." she glared up at him. Eyes, body, hard and ready to attack.
"It was a surprise..." he said slowly.
"A... what... a surprise?" she said incredulously, "Killing people?"
"No! Not killing people." he sighed, suddenly not meeting her gaze. The wonderful surprise suddenly didn't seem so great, "I knew that you wouldn't like it... me killing. So I stopped. Long ago I stopped."
"Stopped?" Buffy asked, voice icy, "Then what was all this about?"
"I had to get the blood from somewhere!" he cried out, eyes meeting hers again and pleading with her to understand. She didn't.
"You stopped killing people personally, but you funded a group that could do it for you?" she asked.
"I--"
"Shut up." she snapped, "I don't want to hear anything. Anything. From you."
"Buffy--"
"You always have to screw it up, don't you?" this question didn't demand answering. He couldn't argue with her when it was so plain she believed it to be true. Her voice was tired, as if this was exactly what she had expected. Expected from him. Because he could be no better. And because he'd hurt her. He'd have preferred her to hit him, that he could deal with. Even tears would be better than the resignation on her face. The pause of hatred and uncertainty stretched out between them, and before he could make it right Buffy turned and walked away. He could have run after her, tried to explain. But it was hopeless. In her eyes, he finally saw what he was to her. A monster. Nothing but. Nothing more. Nothing ever.
He was only surprised that she hadn't staked him right then.
(Author's Note: Ahhh. Always love to end a chapter on a depressing note. Heh. But seriously, its like the storm before the storm before the hurricane, before the eye, before the clear weather. If that makes sense, weather metaphors suck. Long chapter, a bitca to code. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far, and to those who continue to review. :-) I'm not sure when I'll update next, but then again, I never am.)
