***********************************TrAPPeD**********************************
Five: Specks of Light
By Annie
2003-03-14
****************************************************************************
Day Two.
7.58 a.m.
He just threw the emptied bag of blood into the refrigerator box when the Slayer came out through the doorway of the closet space.
The night prior had seen them on no speaking terms with one another again, both agitated at the sudden spoken fact of them treading very carefully on the brink of having to spend eternity in the presence of the other. Thus deciding to pretend the other wasn't there at all - hoping it would make the fact vanish. It stubbornly kept making itself known, though.
Through the scrape of one of his DocMartins against the floor. A huff in return from her; as if to let him know just how much she blamed him for disrupting the quiet - reminding her of him still being close. Through a sigh of boredom from her. A huff in return from him; though it bore a trace of agreement, much since he thought he was about to climb the walls literally from having absolutely nothing to do. Tormenting her didn't even hold the same allure anymore.
Tiredly they had gone to bed. The door sliding closed behind her and the lack of acute nearness to her having him slowly fire up the engine that kept him going again. Tomorrow was but one long holding of his non-existing breath away. Tomorrow he'd reunite with the spider of his not beating heart and he WOULD spin his web around her. Somehow.
Now she stopped one step out of the doorway and stretched with a small yawn before she relaxed, kneading one eye tiredly before letting her arm drop along her side, and then reluctantly meeting his gaze.
The lazy rays of sunlight falling across the floor of the basement and pooling almost timidly in the dust of it was something he could easily avoid. They were scarce and thin, and if he just kept to the wall none of them hit him, nor did their fingers reach the mattresses. He had enough space.
However, one of those rays now softly ran through her tangled locks, highlighted her brow and the tip of her nose and played a gentle game with the softness of her mouth.
He found himself staring. Practically gaping. She was...
"Ew!" she grumbled, putting an index finger up by the side of her mouth as she added: "Blood residue right here and please, don't play with it. Just wipe-wipe-wipe."
...as annoying and bloody unsympathetic as always.
He let his tongue slip out and catch the stray droplet, licking it up easily he then smiled contentedly.
"Anything else I can do to...satisfy?" he asked, just hinting at letting his eyes travel down her body as he slowly pronounced the last word - but he never followed through as he got the desired effect anyways, her eyes grew slightly and for some reason her heart began to jump scotch just one notch faster.
Jump-jumpjump. Jump-jumpjump.
Buffy walked up to the refrigerator box, unfortunately that meant she had to also walk up to stand beside him, before reaching out a hand and pulling the lid up. She had discovered a smaller stash of food she could actually eat beneath the bags of blood the night before - and so she thought she could indulge in having her stomach filled this morning.
There had been no side effects to her meal yesterday. It seemed safe enough. Which was a relief. Putting up with the vermin of HIM on an empty stomach just might have been too much for her. She had no idea why her heart seemed set on betraying her every time he looked at her in that infuriating way! She had just simply decided to think no more of it.
Grabbing the plastic box still containing some fish and a new plastic bag - this one with tomatoes - she shut the lid of the larger box hard and then she turned to him. His gaze was still carrying that teasing suggestiveness. She had never seen it there before they were thrown into this godforsaken situation. She had only seen hatred, a need of destruction and pure disgust with who she was and what she stood for. So, where had this other expression surfaced from?
"What?!" she now exclaimed, putting both food containers down on the lid of the fridge with a harsh movement as she kept eye contact.
So much for thinking no more of it.
"What?" he asked back, innocently.
An expression that not only misfit him - he did it cruel injustice.
"What IS it with the whole... attitude change?" she asked, putting her hands on either hip as she eyed him closely, and he smirked a little.
"What 'attitude change'?" he wondered and she narrowed her eyes.
"You're all..." she began, but the sudden gleam in his blue eyes showing just how much he was anticipating what she was going to say next made her stop herself.
"'All' what?" he inquired and she straightened her back slightly, her face relaxed as she met his eyes and he suddenly didn't like the feeling of losing the advantage he had felt he had had over her.
"You think I'm stupid," she said, turning from him and walking to stand in the middle of a blazing ray of light.
She damn near blinded him, stupid bint.
"Get outta the sunlight, love," he said, turning from her as well and walking up to the mattresses.
Sitting down he glanced at his chipped nail polish. The black was giving way for the boring skin tone underneath it and he sighed. He should make it a custom to always bring a bottle of polish with him. It would rest nicely next to his lighter, he mused. Of course, unless he at some point was at Willy's or wherever and he wanted to light a smoke, grabbed the wrong item and ended up trying to paint the sodding thing with the polish. Nah. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea. Besides, the chipped look kinda suited his state of mind right now. Could she get more...?
"You must think I'm the most stupid person in the world," she now semi- repeated and when he realized her voice was very close he looked up, finding her practically leaning over him.
He glared up into pools of green, the light reflecting in specks deep within them, and he was transfixed. He hated her more than he thought possible in that moment. Because in that moment he also realized that he wanted her.
Badly.
Right then. Right there.
With his hands in those silly looking tangles of her blonde hair and his mouth...
Snapping out of it he got to his feet quickly and suddenly she was close enough to touch as she straightened her posture when he rose, but refrained from taking a step back. The defiance of her eyes made him understand that she had not yet spoken all that was on her mind.
"I've always thought you daft," he now shrugged, his gaze not leaving hers as he tried desperately to brush the new sensation off of him. "I guess, yeah, that IS the same as stupid - innit?"
She bit her jaws together hard.
"I know what you're doing," she stated, tilting her head back to look up at him.
He raised his eyebrows slightly, then grabbed her upper arms and pulled her flush against him.
Her eyes showed no sign of surprise, they merely grew harder - but the small gasp escaping her made him understand that this was not expected. Good. Because the fact of him actually wanting this had been completely unexpected to him - and as the feeling merely grew when he suddenly felt her body heat extend its roots to pierce his cool flesh he almost pushed her away from him again, panic rising from a dark corner of his subconscious with a warning.
Hold back, it said. Hold back or be lost. Forever.
His hands refused to listen as they merely gripped her tighter.
Her fingers slid with tentative unfamiliarity over the skin of his lower arms, trying to find a way to brace, to shove, to free. There was none...
Her heart - the everlasting traitor - began to run amok in her chest and she drew an unsteady breath as she stared up at him. Her eyes still cold and bearing the sharpness of a knife in a warning.
"And what exactly," he now practically breathed as he pulled her even a little closer, "am I supposedly doing?"
"I told you 'if you ever touch me again'..." she merely stated as an answer, her voice low and he rested his eyes in hers for the longest time before he leaned down.
She was faster, avoiding his lips she tore away from him.
"What the hell are you doing?!" she exclaimed and he smiled.
"Guess it wasn't that that I was 'supposed to be doing' then?" he mocked, licking his lips and she took another step back from him in fuming disbelief.
"You're a pig, Spike," she replied with a shake of the head.
"Why's your heart beating so fast?" he wondered, putting one hand against his own chest before he closed his eyes and added: "I can feel it... Right in here."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Stop it," she mumbled and he opened his eyes to rest them in hers once more.
"Stop what?" he demanded. "Feeling you?"
A rush of something tore through her at those words and she blinked in surprise at the sensation. Then she made herself take control again and she shook her head slowly.
"You'll never be able to feel me," she stated.
He smiled.
"I just did," he retorted before releasing her gaze and taking a seat on the mattresses once more.
***
11.05 a.m.
"I'm so bored," he sighed, lying across the mattresses with his head dipped over the side which was facing her, the top of his scalp almost resting against the floor as he blinked.
He had been in that position for half an hour and it had quietly fascinated her. If she lay like that for two minutes her head began to pound. Of course, he had no blood circulating, he had no blood gathering in his brain, he was just some dead body lying on two worn mattresses glancing at her from time to time with two orbs of blue.
"Would you please not talk?" she grumbled, sitting with her back against the hard stone wall slightly to the right of The Window.
He smirked and she wanted to bite her tongue. That was simple encouragement for him. Secretly she wondered if she hadn't said those words simply to get him going. Because boy, could she agree with him - the sitting and staring into space was mind-numbingly boring. She'd rather... What? What would she rather? Bicker? Argue? Yell? Scream? Fight?
Yeah. Hell yeah. All the above.
Blinking at the thought she squared her shoulders and hoped he'd restrain himself from saying another word. That he'd listen to her thoughts and understand that some twisted part of her actually wanted him to speak, and thus he'd keep himself from obliging her. Please, oh, please.
"Pure waste of time this is," he crushed her hope by saying and she closed her eyes in sudden annoyance.
With herself. With him! With all of this.
"Would you just NOT talk?" she said again, opening her eyes and resting them in his as he rolled over on his stomach and now he smirked.
"But then, if you think of it," he non-bashfully went on, "how many hours of our days don't we spend doing stuff we really don't feel like doing? Shopping. Sleeping. Cooking..."
"...Stealing. Killing. Lying. Cheating," she filled in with a glare his way.
He chuckled, shaking his head and sitting up.
Somehow every last movement he performed seemed to have a slow grace to them, as if he danced a dance only she could ever perceive. Her eyes couldn't help but take in the muscles moving beneath the smooth skin of his upper arms and small goose-bumps spread over her shoulders as the unsettling memory of his hands pressing her to him slipped into her head.
Swallowing she ignored it, keeping eye contact, determined not to let any of this show on her.
Determined not to even think the thought of him affecting her even the slightest; blaming him doing just that on the fact that they had spent more time together these past thirty-eight hours than they EVER had before and that it was simply bugging her so much that it made her think things that were just... made her think... it made her absolutely crazy, simple as that.
"You just listed what makes this Earth worth existing on," he now replied to her former input and her eyes grew slightly as she tried to remember what the recent banter had been about.
Ah, yes. His sleazy on-goings whenever and wherever; that evil, un-dead fiend!
"Oh, of course you'd say that," she muttered, shaking her head a little at him.
He cocked an eyebrow and she wanted to get him away from her. As far away as possible. This room just wasn't big enough for the both of them.
"So what would you say does it for you?" he inquired and she waited for him to continue, which he did with no further encouragement. "Playing house with your little friends? Playing little lovable girlie girl with the sodding git? Or could it possibly be," he lowered his voice and slowed the words so that every syllable would have time to sink in, "that what gets you on a high, what can't be compared to anything else in this entire world, is your trade...? Slaying. Killing. Night after night perfecting your skill..." She stared at him now and he rose to his feet with that slow motion in his manner that sent a sudden chill of warning down her spine. "Nothing beats the feel of that stake through dead flesh and dead heart, does it... Slayer?"
She got up quickly. It seemed her brain demanded it of her legs without her consciously being entirely aware of it. She swallowed again, her heart feeling as though it was growing into stone - beating heavily in her chest as he approached her.
"It's what you crave all day..." he murmured, stopping before her and she wanted to take a step back, but her feet were this time dumbfounded at her pleas for them to move and she stood still - feeling as though he was slowly concentrating every last shred of everything that was him, on her.
Filling her up from the inside.
Then she battled it back, made it retract with a sudden furious disbelief with herself.
She knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to manipulate her. And it was NOT going to work.
"Oh, please," she said now, the defying stir in her chest crept into her eyes and he wanted to grind his teeth.
Damn it, he was losing her. Again. He had been so close this time.
"Don't even try to get any kind of meaningful discussion going, Spike," she continued, sidestepping him and walking a few feet away from him before she turned back to him. "About who I am, 'cause I know you don't give a damn. Like I said, I know what you're doing. But mostly - I just really don't wanna talk to you. About anything."
He lifted one shoulder in a small shrug before saying:
"So stop talking."
She felt the lightening of anger jolt through her and just like that he flipped her concentration once again.
"I wasn't the one who started it," she shot, the sarcasm in the reminder making him smirk.
"And if I'd known there'd be no bloody stopping your gob once I GOT you started I bleeding well wouldn't have said a word, now would I?" he retorted and her eyes grew with indignation.
"Just shut up," she replied and he shook his head at her.
"You have serious issues," he stated and now her eyes grew round as she stared at him before exclaiming:
"I - ME - I do?!"
"Yeah," he confirmed simply.
"My only 'issue' is being locked in here with YOU!" she assured and his expression grew impatient as he took a step forward.
"And you think I'm bloody enjoying myself?" he asked and she nodded, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Oh, I'm sure of it," she answered him and now HIS eyes grew.
"You're crazy, anyone ever tell you that? You're sodding outta your mind!"
"Would you stop YELLING?!" she shouted, taking a step closer as well.
"I didn't start THAT!" he retorted, his voice still as loud and they eyed each other for a few moments before she turned from him with a huff.
"You're giving me a headache," she grumbled, putting one hand by her forehead and he scowled.
"Yeah? Well, I have a headache every second I'm near you 'cause all I can think of is how much I wanna bloody dismember you," he retorted and she twirled around.
"SEE!" she once again raised her voice. "If ANYONE in this room has issues it's YOU!"
"And in what way would that be?" he asked, once more cocking an eyebrow as he tilted his head slightly to one side.
Hitting him would have been good, but she clenched her jaws together, mustering up as much self-control as she had left in her as she mentally bound her wrists behind her back. Then she replied:
"In the your-mind-is-so-incredibly-sick way. Good enough?"
"No," he answered. "'Cause that's just my nature, pet. And those are the only laws you can't ever bend."
"Says the LIVING DEAD philosophically," she muttered sarcastically.
He grew into a grouchy silence at that remark, irritated that he hadn't a good enough come back. She smiled inwardly.
Hah! Got you there, you little no-brained, bleach-head, she thought smugly. This is fun.
Oh, but you should really just have him shut up, something stated within her.
And why's that? I'm picking up points here. I could just rub his nose in it, she thought in return. I could get him off that high horse and make him realize that just 'cause he's like a hundred years older than me it doesn't necessarily mean that his brain is bigger. Actually I bet it's smaller now than it was when he was human. Hah, I'd love to see the look on his face when I make that remark.
Buffy. He's a hundred years older than you. Exactly. Ponder that for a few seconds. Think of where he has been, what he has seen and what he has done. Think of what he is, Buffy. You're playing games with him you promised yourself and TOLD him you never would. Don't take it any further. You just got a small taste of the power he has to project onto you. Listen to his voice long enough and you'll start to believe it. He's nothing good, Buffy. He's nothing clean. He's pure darkness. Don't dwell on it, don't try to pry it open. No light can ever reach it. You know this. He's soulless. He's dead. Buffy. He's DEAD. Now let it go. Before you take it too far, let it go.
There's nothing to worry about, she told herself confidently with a shrug. What could there possibly be to worry about? I know all of the above and he's just... air. He's nothing to me. Look at him! He's not even...
Turning her head she glanced at him for a moment, his eyes meeting hers and she blinked at a small twirl in the pit of her stomach.
...attractive, she finished her sentence and the waver, with which she thought it, made her take a step back.
Then the practicality of her Slayer mind took over and rooted out even the smallest shred of doubt in the fact that he would never, ever be able to crawl under her skin in the way he seemed to have set his mind on doing. He would never touch her; not in any way, shape or form would he touch her. Not ever.
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Oh, yay for you guys! Thanks so, so much for your reviews! And this chapter was supposed to be up yesterday - but the site wouldn't let me in and so I also have to apologize for it being late, though there is the explanation! :)
Warm and special thanks to Heather, LizDarcy, Haley (times four! Thanks girl!) ;), Rose (I did a spell check and some serious editing and I hope it would be more to your satisfaction if you read it now. You really rattled me, girl! Thanks for that!) :), mulderluva (times two! Thanks a lot!) :), PineTranio, Spuffygirl and wendy. You guys rock and you've seriously lifted my spirit! Thanks for, as always, just making my day.
I hope you liked this chapter, and that your getting the sense toward where this is probably leaning, right? ;) Hehe. Luv y'all!
Please, keep the feedback coming and I will write fast, faster, fastest!
A.M.L, Annie.
Five: Specks of Light
By Annie
2003-03-14
****************************************************************************
Day Two.
7.58 a.m.
He just threw the emptied bag of blood into the refrigerator box when the Slayer came out through the doorway of the closet space.
The night prior had seen them on no speaking terms with one another again, both agitated at the sudden spoken fact of them treading very carefully on the brink of having to spend eternity in the presence of the other. Thus deciding to pretend the other wasn't there at all - hoping it would make the fact vanish. It stubbornly kept making itself known, though.
Through the scrape of one of his DocMartins against the floor. A huff in return from her; as if to let him know just how much she blamed him for disrupting the quiet - reminding her of him still being close. Through a sigh of boredom from her. A huff in return from him; though it bore a trace of agreement, much since he thought he was about to climb the walls literally from having absolutely nothing to do. Tormenting her didn't even hold the same allure anymore.
Tiredly they had gone to bed. The door sliding closed behind her and the lack of acute nearness to her having him slowly fire up the engine that kept him going again. Tomorrow was but one long holding of his non-existing breath away. Tomorrow he'd reunite with the spider of his not beating heart and he WOULD spin his web around her. Somehow.
Now she stopped one step out of the doorway and stretched with a small yawn before she relaxed, kneading one eye tiredly before letting her arm drop along her side, and then reluctantly meeting his gaze.
The lazy rays of sunlight falling across the floor of the basement and pooling almost timidly in the dust of it was something he could easily avoid. They were scarce and thin, and if he just kept to the wall none of them hit him, nor did their fingers reach the mattresses. He had enough space.
However, one of those rays now softly ran through her tangled locks, highlighted her brow and the tip of her nose and played a gentle game with the softness of her mouth.
He found himself staring. Practically gaping. She was...
"Ew!" she grumbled, putting an index finger up by the side of her mouth as she added: "Blood residue right here and please, don't play with it. Just wipe-wipe-wipe."
...as annoying and bloody unsympathetic as always.
He let his tongue slip out and catch the stray droplet, licking it up easily he then smiled contentedly.
"Anything else I can do to...satisfy?" he asked, just hinting at letting his eyes travel down her body as he slowly pronounced the last word - but he never followed through as he got the desired effect anyways, her eyes grew slightly and for some reason her heart began to jump scotch just one notch faster.
Jump-jumpjump. Jump-jumpjump.
Buffy walked up to the refrigerator box, unfortunately that meant she had to also walk up to stand beside him, before reaching out a hand and pulling the lid up. She had discovered a smaller stash of food she could actually eat beneath the bags of blood the night before - and so she thought she could indulge in having her stomach filled this morning.
There had been no side effects to her meal yesterday. It seemed safe enough. Which was a relief. Putting up with the vermin of HIM on an empty stomach just might have been too much for her. She had no idea why her heart seemed set on betraying her every time he looked at her in that infuriating way! She had just simply decided to think no more of it.
Grabbing the plastic box still containing some fish and a new plastic bag - this one with tomatoes - she shut the lid of the larger box hard and then she turned to him. His gaze was still carrying that teasing suggestiveness. She had never seen it there before they were thrown into this godforsaken situation. She had only seen hatred, a need of destruction and pure disgust with who she was and what she stood for. So, where had this other expression surfaced from?
"What?!" she now exclaimed, putting both food containers down on the lid of the fridge with a harsh movement as she kept eye contact.
So much for thinking no more of it.
"What?" he asked back, innocently.
An expression that not only misfit him - he did it cruel injustice.
"What IS it with the whole... attitude change?" she asked, putting her hands on either hip as she eyed him closely, and he smirked a little.
"What 'attitude change'?" he wondered and she narrowed her eyes.
"You're all..." she began, but the sudden gleam in his blue eyes showing just how much he was anticipating what she was going to say next made her stop herself.
"'All' what?" he inquired and she straightened her back slightly, her face relaxed as she met his eyes and he suddenly didn't like the feeling of losing the advantage he had felt he had had over her.
"You think I'm stupid," she said, turning from him and walking to stand in the middle of a blazing ray of light.
She damn near blinded him, stupid bint.
"Get outta the sunlight, love," he said, turning from her as well and walking up to the mattresses.
Sitting down he glanced at his chipped nail polish. The black was giving way for the boring skin tone underneath it and he sighed. He should make it a custom to always bring a bottle of polish with him. It would rest nicely next to his lighter, he mused. Of course, unless he at some point was at Willy's or wherever and he wanted to light a smoke, grabbed the wrong item and ended up trying to paint the sodding thing with the polish. Nah. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea. Besides, the chipped look kinda suited his state of mind right now. Could she get more...?
"You must think I'm the most stupid person in the world," she now semi- repeated and when he realized her voice was very close he looked up, finding her practically leaning over him.
He glared up into pools of green, the light reflecting in specks deep within them, and he was transfixed. He hated her more than he thought possible in that moment. Because in that moment he also realized that he wanted her.
Badly.
Right then. Right there.
With his hands in those silly looking tangles of her blonde hair and his mouth...
Snapping out of it he got to his feet quickly and suddenly she was close enough to touch as she straightened her posture when he rose, but refrained from taking a step back. The defiance of her eyes made him understand that she had not yet spoken all that was on her mind.
"I've always thought you daft," he now shrugged, his gaze not leaving hers as he tried desperately to brush the new sensation off of him. "I guess, yeah, that IS the same as stupid - innit?"
She bit her jaws together hard.
"I know what you're doing," she stated, tilting her head back to look up at him.
He raised his eyebrows slightly, then grabbed her upper arms and pulled her flush against him.
Her eyes showed no sign of surprise, they merely grew harder - but the small gasp escaping her made him understand that this was not expected. Good. Because the fact of him actually wanting this had been completely unexpected to him - and as the feeling merely grew when he suddenly felt her body heat extend its roots to pierce his cool flesh he almost pushed her away from him again, panic rising from a dark corner of his subconscious with a warning.
Hold back, it said. Hold back or be lost. Forever.
His hands refused to listen as they merely gripped her tighter.
Her fingers slid with tentative unfamiliarity over the skin of his lower arms, trying to find a way to brace, to shove, to free. There was none...
Her heart - the everlasting traitor - began to run amok in her chest and she drew an unsteady breath as she stared up at him. Her eyes still cold and bearing the sharpness of a knife in a warning.
"And what exactly," he now practically breathed as he pulled her even a little closer, "am I supposedly doing?"
"I told you 'if you ever touch me again'..." she merely stated as an answer, her voice low and he rested his eyes in hers for the longest time before he leaned down.
She was faster, avoiding his lips she tore away from him.
"What the hell are you doing?!" she exclaimed and he smiled.
"Guess it wasn't that that I was 'supposed to be doing' then?" he mocked, licking his lips and she took another step back from him in fuming disbelief.
"You're a pig, Spike," she replied with a shake of the head.
"Why's your heart beating so fast?" he wondered, putting one hand against his own chest before he closed his eyes and added: "I can feel it... Right in here."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Stop it," she mumbled and he opened his eyes to rest them in hers once more.
"Stop what?" he demanded. "Feeling you?"
A rush of something tore through her at those words and she blinked in surprise at the sensation. Then she made herself take control again and she shook her head slowly.
"You'll never be able to feel me," she stated.
He smiled.
"I just did," he retorted before releasing her gaze and taking a seat on the mattresses once more.
***
11.05 a.m.
"I'm so bored," he sighed, lying across the mattresses with his head dipped over the side which was facing her, the top of his scalp almost resting against the floor as he blinked.
He had been in that position for half an hour and it had quietly fascinated her. If she lay like that for two minutes her head began to pound. Of course, he had no blood circulating, he had no blood gathering in his brain, he was just some dead body lying on two worn mattresses glancing at her from time to time with two orbs of blue.
"Would you please not talk?" she grumbled, sitting with her back against the hard stone wall slightly to the right of The Window.
He smirked and she wanted to bite her tongue. That was simple encouragement for him. Secretly she wondered if she hadn't said those words simply to get him going. Because boy, could she agree with him - the sitting and staring into space was mind-numbingly boring. She'd rather... What? What would she rather? Bicker? Argue? Yell? Scream? Fight?
Yeah. Hell yeah. All the above.
Blinking at the thought she squared her shoulders and hoped he'd restrain himself from saying another word. That he'd listen to her thoughts and understand that some twisted part of her actually wanted him to speak, and thus he'd keep himself from obliging her. Please, oh, please.
"Pure waste of time this is," he crushed her hope by saying and she closed her eyes in sudden annoyance.
With herself. With him! With all of this.
"Would you just NOT talk?" she said again, opening her eyes and resting them in his as he rolled over on his stomach and now he smirked.
"But then, if you think of it," he non-bashfully went on, "how many hours of our days don't we spend doing stuff we really don't feel like doing? Shopping. Sleeping. Cooking..."
"...Stealing. Killing. Lying. Cheating," she filled in with a glare his way.
He chuckled, shaking his head and sitting up.
Somehow every last movement he performed seemed to have a slow grace to them, as if he danced a dance only she could ever perceive. Her eyes couldn't help but take in the muscles moving beneath the smooth skin of his upper arms and small goose-bumps spread over her shoulders as the unsettling memory of his hands pressing her to him slipped into her head.
Swallowing she ignored it, keeping eye contact, determined not to let any of this show on her.
Determined not to even think the thought of him affecting her even the slightest; blaming him doing just that on the fact that they had spent more time together these past thirty-eight hours than they EVER had before and that it was simply bugging her so much that it made her think things that were just... made her think... it made her absolutely crazy, simple as that.
"You just listed what makes this Earth worth existing on," he now replied to her former input and her eyes grew slightly as she tried to remember what the recent banter had been about.
Ah, yes. His sleazy on-goings whenever and wherever; that evil, un-dead fiend!
"Oh, of course you'd say that," she muttered, shaking her head a little at him.
He cocked an eyebrow and she wanted to get him away from her. As far away as possible. This room just wasn't big enough for the both of them.
"So what would you say does it for you?" he inquired and she waited for him to continue, which he did with no further encouragement. "Playing house with your little friends? Playing little lovable girlie girl with the sodding git? Or could it possibly be," he lowered his voice and slowed the words so that every syllable would have time to sink in, "that what gets you on a high, what can't be compared to anything else in this entire world, is your trade...? Slaying. Killing. Night after night perfecting your skill..." She stared at him now and he rose to his feet with that slow motion in his manner that sent a sudden chill of warning down her spine. "Nothing beats the feel of that stake through dead flesh and dead heart, does it... Slayer?"
She got up quickly. It seemed her brain demanded it of her legs without her consciously being entirely aware of it. She swallowed again, her heart feeling as though it was growing into stone - beating heavily in her chest as he approached her.
"It's what you crave all day..." he murmured, stopping before her and she wanted to take a step back, but her feet were this time dumbfounded at her pleas for them to move and she stood still - feeling as though he was slowly concentrating every last shred of everything that was him, on her.
Filling her up from the inside.
Then she battled it back, made it retract with a sudden furious disbelief with herself.
She knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to manipulate her. And it was NOT going to work.
"Oh, please," she said now, the defying stir in her chest crept into her eyes and he wanted to grind his teeth.
Damn it, he was losing her. Again. He had been so close this time.
"Don't even try to get any kind of meaningful discussion going, Spike," she continued, sidestepping him and walking a few feet away from him before she turned back to him. "About who I am, 'cause I know you don't give a damn. Like I said, I know what you're doing. But mostly - I just really don't wanna talk to you. About anything."
He lifted one shoulder in a small shrug before saying:
"So stop talking."
She felt the lightening of anger jolt through her and just like that he flipped her concentration once again.
"I wasn't the one who started it," she shot, the sarcasm in the reminder making him smirk.
"And if I'd known there'd be no bloody stopping your gob once I GOT you started I bleeding well wouldn't have said a word, now would I?" he retorted and her eyes grew with indignation.
"Just shut up," she replied and he shook his head at her.
"You have serious issues," he stated and now her eyes grew round as she stared at him before exclaiming:
"I - ME - I do?!"
"Yeah," he confirmed simply.
"My only 'issue' is being locked in here with YOU!" she assured and his expression grew impatient as he took a step forward.
"And you think I'm bloody enjoying myself?" he asked and she nodded, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Oh, I'm sure of it," she answered him and now HIS eyes grew.
"You're crazy, anyone ever tell you that? You're sodding outta your mind!"
"Would you stop YELLING?!" she shouted, taking a step closer as well.
"I didn't start THAT!" he retorted, his voice still as loud and they eyed each other for a few moments before she turned from him with a huff.
"You're giving me a headache," she grumbled, putting one hand by her forehead and he scowled.
"Yeah? Well, I have a headache every second I'm near you 'cause all I can think of is how much I wanna bloody dismember you," he retorted and she twirled around.
"SEE!" she once again raised her voice. "If ANYONE in this room has issues it's YOU!"
"And in what way would that be?" he asked, once more cocking an eyebrow as he tilted his head slightly to one side.
Hitting him would have been good, but she clenched her jaws together, mustering up as much self-control as she had left in her as she mentally bound her wrists behind her back. Then she replied:
"In the your-mind-is-so-incredibly-sick way. Good enough?"
"No," he answered. "'Cause that's just my nature, pet. And those are the only laws you can't ever bend."
"Says the LIVING DEAD philosophically," she muttered sarcastically.
He grew into a grouchy silence at that remark, irritated that he hadn't a good enough come back. She smiled inwardly.
Hah! Got you there, you little no-brained, bleach-head, she thought smugly. This is fun.
Oh, but you should really just have him shut up, something stated within her.
And why's that? I'm picking up points here. I could just rub his nose in it, she thought in return. I could get him off that high horse and make him realize that just 'cause he's like a hundred years older than me it doesn't necessarily mean that his brain is bigger. Actually I bet it's smaller now than it was when he was human. Hah, I'd love to see the look on his face when I make that remark.
Buffy. He's a hundred years older than you. Exactly. Ponder that for a few seconds. Think of where he has been, what he has seen and what he has done. Think of what he is, Buffy. You're playing games with him you promised yourself and TOLD him you never would. Don't take it any further. You just got a small taste of the power he has to project onto you. Listen to his voice long enough and you'll start to believe it. He's nothing good, Buffy. He's nothing clean. He's pure darkness. Don't dwell on it, don't try to pry it open. No light can ever reach it. You know this. He's soulless. He's dead. Buffy. He's DEAD. Now let it go. Before you take it too far, let it go.
There's nothing to worry about, she told herself confidently with a shrug. What could there possibly be to worry about? I know all of the above and he's just... air. He's nothing to me. Look at him! He's not even...
Turning her head she glanced at him for a moment, his eyes meeting hers and she blinked at a small twirl in the pit of her stomach.
...attractive, she finished her sentence and the waver, with which she thought it, made her take a step back.
Then the practicality of her Slayer mind took over and rooted out even the smallest shred of doubt in the fact that he would never, ever be able to crawl under her skin in the way he seemed to have set his mind on doing. He would never touch her; not in any way, shape or form would he touch her. Not ever.
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Oh, yay for you guys! Thanks so, so much for your reviews! And this chapter was supposed to be up yesterday - but the site wouldn't let me in and so I also have to apologize for it being late, though there is the explanation! :)
Warm and special thanks to Heather, LizDarcy, Haley (times four! Thanks girl!) ;), Rose (I did a spell check and some serious editing and I hope it would be more to your satisfaction if you read it now. You really rattled me, girl! Thanks for that!) :), mulderluva (times two! Thanks a lot!) :), PineTranio, Spuffygirl and wendy. You guys rock and you've seriously lifted my spirit! Thanks for, as always, just making my day.
I hope you liked this chapter, and that your getting the sense toward where this is probably leaning, right? ;) Hehe. Luv y'all!
Please, keep the feedback coming and I will write fast, faster, fastest!
A.M.L, Annie.