Spike smiled grimly as he pulled onto the quiet street, the last few rays
of sunlight fading away. The last hour had been city driving and he
welcomed the calming reprieve of residential roads. Bloody suburbia, he
thought as they drove past manicured lawns in front of moderately large
houses. He shook his head ruefully, William the Bloody had been
domesticated by the Slayer herself. I'm worse then the bleeding poof, he
thought bitterly, his fingers curling tightly around the steering wheel.
Buffy turned to Spike, noticing the way the muscles in his jaw kept
clenching and unclenching. Ever since they had left California he had been
unusually quiet, a condition that had worsened as the road moved them
closer to their new home in Rhode Island. "You okay," she asked quietly,
keeping her voice low so as not to disturb Dawn who was drinking in the
sights outside the black-tinted windows.
Nodding slowly, Spike focused his attention on the mailboxes that lined the street. He didn't want to miss the house nor did he want to get into a fight with Buffy. They had driven cross-country in a little more then three days and Spike wanted nothing more then to go to sleep. He had tried to hide his inner turmoil from the blonde beauty beside him but it got harder as the miles sped past. There were so many things he wanted to tell Buffy, they had been through so much together and yet he still didn't feel worthy of her love and respect. He had never been in a real relationship before; Drusilla and Buffy were the only women had truly loved, and they were as different as night and day. Dru had been psychotic; she asked little of Spike except his patience and the occasional declaration of love. Buffy, on the other hand, consumed Spike; their connection was passionate and intense, and he had to devote himself wholeheartedly to her in order to even try to keep up.
This new chapter in their lives was something he was completely unprepared to deal with. In Sunnydale, their relationship had been easier and more familiar. Despite the almost daily bickering and their tumultuous past, Buffy and Spike had a connection that had been borne in Sunnydale. As they left the bright California town, Spike worried that things would be different between him and his Slayer. Even though Buffy had insisted that nothing had changed between them, the lingering doubts kept creeping into his head He had no idea what to expect nor did he know what was expected of him; the last thing Spike wanted was to disappoint his love, again. His mind began to drift back over the last few years in Sunnydale, remembering the night he first saw Buffy and how she had managed to turn his life upside-down.
If Spike was honest with himself, he would have admitted that their connection had been forged long before Buffy had ever heard of Glory, the Initiative or Acatha. From the first time he had seen her at the Bronze, her golden hair spilling across her face as she danced with her friends, Spike had been enthralled. There was something about the almost predatory and sensual manner in which she moved that had drawn him, the Scourge of Europe, to the fiery young Slayer. The moment her green eyes drifted through the crowd, Spike had known that she was different from any other Chosen One. Her gaze scanned the throng of people in the Bronze, mostly high school students relieving academic-induced tension after a long week; she was searching for something out of place, he could see that plainly, even from his hiding place in the shadows. Half out of curiosity and half out of need, Spike had staged a vampire attack on an unsuspecting club patron. He needed to see how she fought and wanted to watch her dance in the darkness of the alley. When he had approached her, his leather duster billowing behind him in waves and a smart-assed remark rolling off his tongue about killing her, the defiant thrust of her chin and the fearless glimmer in her eyes had intrigued him. She was so much more passionate then any other Slayer he had met. He could easily sense the emotions that were rolling off her in waves, something that was rare amongst her predecessors. Most Slayers allowed the sacred responsibility side of their personality to take over their lives, leaving no time for any of the other things that normal teenagers did. Slayers were taught to be closed off from the outside world, but instead this fierce siren was a part of that world, she was immersed within it. In that instant, he knew that he would do everything possible to make her belong to him.
Their initial attraction to each other had spent months hidden beneath his bloodlust and her ideas of duty. The alliance against Angelus had been the beginning of the end for Spike; he was playing with fire enlisting the Slayer's help against his Grandsire, but there was no other way to save Drusilla, his dark princess. Drusilla had known about the Slayer for weeks before she left Spike, she could sense the light that was slowly creeping through the blackened walls around his heart. Before she had left him on the park bench, her dark eyes had locked with his, in a rare lucid moment. Caressing his cheek softly, she whispered, "she surrounds you, devours you. You have let her destroy you." At the time he had no idea what Dru was mumbling about, but in hindsight it all made sense. Buffy had changed him, destroying the monster he had become over the decades and rekindling the man who had been almost completely forgotten.
Something about her drew Spike in, he could not put into words the way he felt about the petite Slayer, no matter how many journals he filled with his hastily scrawled poems. He had been able to hide his desire for Buffy for a few weeks after he returned to Sunnydale without Dru. From the distance he had watched her, content to follow her every move and make sure that she was safe. He rationalized that she was going to be his third, so he needed to stake his claim and wait for the right moment. The Initiative had turned the tables on Spike, rendering him weak and completely dependent on Buffy and her friends. For months he had hated the commandos and the group of overzealous demon scientists who had put the chip in his head. The chip started Spike's descent into a world where he dared to dream that Buffy might see him as something more then just another vampire. That year had driven Spike almost to the point of madness with Willow's love spell and Buffy's disastrous relationship with the overgrown Boy Scout. The next year was no better, with Joyce's illness and Dawn's sudden appearance. Some days Spike could not understand how Buffy had survived everything that had been thrown at her; in her short life she had endured more pain and suffering then anyone should have to suffer in a century.
Somewhere between helping the Scoobies, watching Passions and eating blooming onions at the Bronze, Spike had begun to realize that he was in love with the Slayer. The night she had come to him for answers about the last two Chosen Ones that he had killed, had been the turning point. Sitting on her back porch, his arm wrapped awkwardly around her shoulder, Spike had known that she was the one for him. Ironically it had been Glory's horrific torture that had given Spike the chance to prove his unwavering loyalty. He had protected Dawn and in the process had shown Buffy that he was so much more then another undead creature of the night. At first she had been reluctant to trust him but somehow she had begun to understand that he was different. The real turning point for him, the moment he realized that this was real, were those terrible moment after she leapt off the tower; as he watched helplessly from the ground below, he could feel his unbeating heart break into pieces. She fell like a swan, her white sweater extending over her arms like the wings of an angel, as she closed the rift between worlds.
Their relationship had undergone another transformation after she came back from Heaven. She had been torn from Paradise by people who could not understand the weight she carried on her slender shoulders and she sought comfort in him. He was more then willing to offer his love as a salve for her wounds, hoping that his tender words would penetrate her cold heart. She never acknowledged their affair, making sure that Spike always knew how far beneath her he truly was. He could see it in her eyes though, in those precious seconds before she succumbed to the blissful calm. In that single instant, love flickered in her green eyes, but it was quickly hidden beneath closed lids as she searched for the serene peace that had been taken away. After a while, he needed more from her then the occasional half- hearted morsel of kindness; the torment had become too much to bear. As much as he begged Buffy for a crumb of affection, Spike craved more; he wanted to know that there was something between them that was worth fighting for, worth giving up everything in his undead life for.
His soul had been another step closer to completing his transformation from vicious monster to honorable man. He had not gone to Africa to seek out a soul; he did not want redemption nor did he deserve forgiveness. Spike regretted everything that had happened between him and Buffy in the hours before he left Sunnydale. As much as he loved her, in a few minutes he had managed to destroy the trust and tentative understanding that their relationship had been build upon. Those terrible moments haunted Spike every day; he kept seeing the pain in Buffy's eyes and anguish that marred her delicate features. Spike was so afraid of the monster within him, not the vampire's demonic face but the vile animal that had wanted to hurt Buffy to make her see the depth of his own suffering. No matter what she said, no words could change what he had done nor could he ever forget that day. He wasn't worthy of her forgiveness nor was he worthy of her love. She deserved so much more then an ensouled vampire who could never walk in the sunlight beside her. Buffy was a goddess of the light and he was a creature of the darkness; he would never be good enough for her, there were too many things wrong with him and she deserved someone whole.
So many things had changed between them, their relationship was no longer based on black and white rules of vampire and Slayer, of predatory and prey; there was so much gray space between them, vast rifts of unpredictable passion that neither talked about nor acknowledged. For the last few weeks, ever since Buffy's declaration of love on the eve of their battle with the First, Spike had been living with a terrible secret. He was scared, more terrified then he had ever been in his life. The thoughts plagued him daily, taunting him about his unworthiness, telling him that the Slayer deserved someone better. It was worse then being controlled by the First, at least then he had a face to put with the vicious words. Now the words were all in his mind, of his own creation; it was his voice, the rough London accent that was belittling him.
A hand squeezed his knee gently, snapping Spike out of the turbulent sea of emotions and memories that he was struggling to stay abreast of. "You sure you're alright," Buffy asked, her faced twisted in worry, "you looked kinda spacey there for a minute." Spike shook his head, trying to clear the troubling thoughts out of his consciousness. There was no sense in worrying Buffy about the silly ramblings of his mind; she had enough to think about already. "Yeah, I'm fine, Slayer," he said shortly, turning off the car and swinging open the driver's side door. He stretched his legs, looking at the house in front of him; the colonial farmhouse was bathed in moonlight, illuminating the buttercream siding and the navy blue shutters. Moving around the car towards the trailer, Spike opened it up and began to empty boxes out onto the driveway. Dawn scrambled out of her seat to help the bleached vampire, while Buffy sat frozen in the passenger seat. Her lover's words kept repeating through her head, he had called her 'Slayer', a nickname she hadn't heard in weeks. Something was going on with Spike, she could sense it, but this was not the right time to bring it up. I'll ask him about it later, she thought as she moved out into the cool night air to help unload the car.
Nodding slowly, Spike focused his attention on the mailboxes that lined the street. He didn't want to miss the house nor did he want to get into a fight with Buffy. They had driven cross-country in a little more then three days and Spike wanted nothing more then to go to sleep. He had tried to hide his inner turmoil from the blonde beauty beside him but it got harder as the miles sped past. There were so many things he wanted to tell Buffy, they had been through so much together and yet he still didn't feel worthy of her love and respect. He had never been in a real relationship before; Drusilla and Buffy were the only women had truly loved, and they were as different as night and day. Dru had been psychotic; she asked little of Spike except his patience and the occasional declaration of love. Buffy, on the other hand, consumed Spike; their connection was passionate and intense, and he had to devote himself wholeheartedly to her in order to even try to keep up.
This new chapter in their lives was something he was completely unprepared to deal with. In Sunnydale, their relationship had been easier and more familiar. Despite the almost daily bickering and their tumultuous past, Buffy and Spike had a connection that had been borne in Sunnydale. As they left the bright California town, Spike worried that things would be different between him and his Slayer. Even though Buffy had insisted that nothing had changed between them, the lingering doubts kept creeping into his head He had no idea what to expect nor did he know what was expected of him; the last thing Spike wanted was to disappoint his love, again. His mind began to drift back over the last few years in Sunnydale, remembering the night he first saw Buffy and how she had managed to turn his life upside-down.
If Spike was honest with himself, he would have admitted that their connection had been forged long before Buffy had ever heard of Glory, the Initiative or Acatha. From the first time he had seen her at the Bronze, her golden hair spilling across her face as she danced with her friends, Spike had been enthralled. There was something about the almost predatory and sensual manner in which she moved that had drawn him, the Scourge of Europe, to the fiery young Slayer. The moment her green eyes drifted through the crowd, Spike had known that she was different from any other Chosen One. Her gaze scanned the throng of people in the Bronze, mostly high school students relieving academic-induced tension after a long week; she was searching for something out of place, he could see that plainly, even from his hiding place in the shadows. Half out of curiosity and half out of need, Spike had staged a vampire attack on an unsuspecting club patron. He needed to see how she fought and wanted to watch her dance in the darkness of the alley. When he had approached her, his leather duster billowing behind him in waves and a smart-assed remark rolling off his tongue about killing her, the defiant thrust of her chin and the fearless glimmer in her eyes had intrigued him. She was so much more passionate then any other Slayer he had met. He could easily sense the emotions that were rolling off her in waves, something that was rare amongst her predecessors. Most Slayers allowed the sacred responsibility side of their personality to take over their lives, leaving no time for any of the other things that normal teenagers did. Slayers were taught to be closed off from the outside world, but instead this fierce siren was a part of that world, she was immersed within it. In that instant, he knew that he would do everything possible to make her belong to him.
Their initial attraction to each other had spent months hidden beneath his bloodlust and her ideas of duty. The alliance against Angelus had been the beginning of the end for Spike; he was playing with fire enlisting the Slayer's help against his Grandsire, but there was no other way to save Drusilla, his dark princess. Drusilla had known about the Slayer for weeks before she left Spike, she could sense the light that was slowly creeping through the blackened walls around his heart. Before she had left him on the park bench, her dark eyes had locked with his, in a rare lucid moment. Caressing his cheek softly, she whispered, "she surrounds you, devours you. You have let her destroy you." At the time he had no idea what Dru was mumbling about, but in hindsight it all made sense. Buffy had changed him, destroying the monster he had become over the decades and rekindling the man who had been almost completely forgotten.
Something about her drew Spike in, he could not put into words the way he felt about the petite Slayer, no matter how many journals he filled with his hastily scrawled poems. He had been able to hide his desire for Buffy for a few weeks after he returned to Sunnydale without Dru. From the distance he had watched her, content to follow her every move and make sure that she was safe. He rationalized that she was going to be his third, so he needed to stake his claim and wait for the right moment. The Initiative had turned the tables on Spike, rendering him weak and completely dependent on Buffy and her friends. For months he had hated the commandos and the group of overzealous demon scientists who had put the chip in his head. The chip started Spike's descent into a world where he dared to dream that Buffy might see him as something more then just another vampire. That year had driven Spike almost to the point of madness with Willow's love spell and Buffy's disastrous relationship with the overgrown Boy Scout. The next year was no better, with Joyce's illness and Dawn's sudden appearance. Some days Spike could not understand how Buffy had survived everything that had been thrown at her; in her short life she had endured more pain and suffering then anyone should have to suffer in a century.
Somewhere between helping the Scoobies, watching Passions and eating blooming onions at the Bronze, Spike had begun to realize that he was in love with the Slayer. The night she had come to him for answers about the last two Chosen Ones that he had killed, had been the turning point. Sitting on her back porch, his arm wrapped awkwardly around her shoulder, Spike had known that she was the one for him. Ironically it had been Glory's horrific torture that had given Spike the chance to prove his unwavering loyalty. He had protected Dawn and in the process had shown Buffy that he was so much more then another undead creature of the night. At first she had been reluctant to trust him but somehow she had begun to understand that he was different. The real turning point for him, the moment he realized that this was real, were those terrible moment after she leapt off the tower; as he watched helplessly from the ground below, he could feel his unbeating heart break into pieces. She fell like a swan, her white sweater extending over her arms like the wings of an angel, as she closed the rift between worlds.
Their relationship had undergone another transformation after she came back from Heaven. She had been torn from Paradise by people who could not understand the weight she carried on her slender shoulders and she sought comfort in him. He was more then willing to offer his love as a salve for her wounds, hoping that his tender words would penetrate her cold heart. She never acknowledged their affair, making sure that Spike always knew how far beneath her he truly was. He could see it in her eyes though, in those precious seconds before she succumbed to the blissful calm. In that single instant, love flickered in her green eyes, but it was quickly hidden beneath closed lids as she searched for the serene peace that had been taken away. After a while, he needed more from her then the occasional half- hearted morsel of kindness; the torment had become too much to bear. As much as he begged Buffy for a crumb of affection, Spike craved more; he wanted to know that there was something between them that was worth fighting for, worth giving up everything in his undead life for.
His soul had been another step closer to completing his transformation from vicious monster to honorable man. He had not gone to Africa to seek out a soul; he did not want redemption nor did he deserve forgiveness. Spike regretted everything that had happened between him and Buffy in the hours before he left Sunnydale. As much as he loved her, in a few minutes he had managed to destroy the trust and tentative understanding that their relationship had been build upon. Those terrible moments haunted Spike every day; he kept seeing the pain in Buffy's eyes and anguish that marred her delicate features. Spike was so afraid of the monster within him, not the vampire's demonic face but the vile animal that had wanted to hurt Buffy to make her see the depth of his own suffering. No matter what she said, no words could change what he had done nor could he ever forget that day. He wasn't worthy of her forgiveness nor was he worthy of her love. She deserved so much more then an ensouled vampire who could never walk in the sunlight beside her. Buffy was a goddess of the light and he was a creature of the darkness; he would never be good enough for her, there were too many things wrong with him and she deserved someone whole.
So many things had changed between them, their relationship was no longer based on black and white rules of vampire and Slayer, of predatory and prey; there was so much gray space between them, vast rifts of unpredictable passion that neither talked about nor acknowledged. For the last few weeks, ever since Buffy's declaration of love on the eve of their battle with the First, Spike had been living with a terrible secret. He was scared, more terrified then he had ever been in his life. The thoughts plagued him daily, taunting him about his unworthiness, telling him that the Slayer deserved someone better. It was worse then being controlled by the First, at least then he had a face to put with the vicious words. Now the words were all in his mind, of his own creation; it was his voice, the rough London accent that was belittling him.
A hand squeezed his knee gently, snapping Spike out of the turbulent sea of emotions and memories that he was struggling to stay abreast of. "You sure you're alright," Buffy asked, her faced twisted in worry, "you looked kinda spacey there for a minute." Spike shook his head, trying to clear the troubling thoughts out of his consciousness. There was no sense in worrying Buffy about the silly ramblings of his mind; she had enough to think about already. "Yeah, I'm fine, Slayer," he said shortly, turning off the car and swinging open the driver's side door. He stretched his legs, looking at the house in front of him; the colonial farmhouse was bathed in moonlight, illuminating the buttercream siding and the navy blue shutters. Moving around the car towards the trailer, Spike opened it up and began to empty boxes out onto the driveway. Dawn scrambled out of her seat to help the bleached vampire, while Buffy sat frozen in the passenger seat. Her lover's words kept repeating through her head, he had called her 'Slayer', a nickname she hadn't heard in weeks. Something was going on with Spike, she could sense it, but this was not the right time to bring it up. I'll ask him about it later, she thought as she moved out into the cool night air to help unload the car.