*************************************TRApPeD********************************
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Fifteen: In the Harsh Light of Day
By Annie
2003-04-04
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Day Ten.
3.16 p.m.
"Buffy!" Willow exclaimed happily as she entered their dorm room, putting her books on her desk before turning to her friend - seated on her bed.
"I cheerfully exclaim your name back," Buffy mumbled, pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around them as she glanced up at the redhead.
Willow frowned.
"Hey," she said, walking up to have a seat before the Slayer, "what's with the gloomyness? I thought you were in a state of round o'clock midst-of-in- love glow... What happened?"
Buffy sighed.
"Nothing 'happened' per say... It's just that Riley told me professor Walsh wants me to see the inside of the Initiative in a few days and it kinda caught me off guard. I'm just...nervous," she replied and Willow smiled. "And then Giles told me that Spike - of all demons - was helping him out the other night. For money, of course," she added, moving to the edge of the bed and getting to her feet. "Not that I actually expected him to do it 'cause he had the sudden urge to," she muttered, more to herself than to Willow, who was having a small and questioning frown grow on as Buffy began to pace.
"Are you sure nothing's going on?" the apprentice Wicca inquired, shifting where she sat so that she could face Buffy.
"It's just this thing with Riley - it's so new, you know?" she answered and Willow observed her, seemingly wanting an elaboration. "What? It is, isn't it?" was all of that that Buffy could give her and Willow smiled tentatively.
"Yeah, but a week ago you would've been voted miss Sunshine," Willow remarked. "Now half the time you go around with a wrinkle between your eyebrows and I kinda don't like it... Wanna tell?"
Buffy hesitated. Her best friend, her confidant through so much, her companion through even more...and now the Slayer actually felt reluctant, felt doubtful that this best friend this time would be able to understand. She didn't like the feeling. Another thing to absolutely loathe about this situation.
"No," Buffy now answered Willow with a small shake of the head, her pacing coming to a stop and she forced on a genuine smile; adding: "No, there's nothing TO tell."
***
4.17 p.m.
She stopped outside the doors of the crypt allegedly hosting a certain bleach-head, rolling her eyes at his sense of irony. The sarcastic touch of once more crowning himself evil, dark and rotten as he created a home for himself at such a cliché-y, two-dime-novel sort of place.
She didn't bother knocking as she entered his abode for the first time. Stepping into a small foyer, heavily decorated with yard long threads of spiderwebs hanging down from the ceiling.
Bet you he put those up himself, she muttered in her head before she pushed the second door open.
It took her into a fairly large room, which the crypt consisted of. Looking around her there was more cobwebs, heaps of dust - making her wonder if she'd been here sometime before, cleaning out a nest of some sort - and to her right a large sarcophagus, on which lay a crumpled blanket.
"You have good taste," she said outloud and there was a brief pause as silence once more slithered into her surroundings; then his voice asked to her left:
"A compliment?"
"A sarcastic one," she replied, turning to him as he stepped out of the shadows.
He smiled a small smile.
"Didn't sound like it," he pointed out and she cocked an eyebrow.
"You think I'd actually say anything good about a place that smells of dead rat and looks like it was the only surviving building of a war?" she retorted and his smile grew into a smirk.
"Between who? Charlotte and those nasty little buggers in 'Arachnophobia'?" he shot. Tilting his head a little to one side he then asked: "Was that a smile?"
Her face grew cool at that question, and whatever hint there had been to lead him to ask it was swiped away sufficiently. Turning from him she walked into the middle of the room, her hands brushing aside the evidence of the fact that there once had been life inhabiting the depressing space.
"I guess you didn't come to discuss litterature and old movies," he mumbled, following her and stopping a few feet behind her. "Did you?" he added and she turned around.
She wondered for the hundredth time what had compelled her to walk here this afternoon. She must be seriously on the verge of a melt-down, she couldn't even remember the reason for her visit. Sticking her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket as she searched for an answer to his question her fingers clasped what she had put in there half an hour earlier, and the reason came back to her with full force.
"I came to make you an offer," she said and he cocked an eyebrow.
"I'm listening," he replied, bringing out a cigarette from his back pocket and putting it in the corner of his mouth as his left hand dug up his infamous lighter.
"I'll give you this," she said, bringing her right hand out of its pocket and showing him the thick wad of bills which it held. His eyes lightened up slightly and she felt encouraged to end her sentence, which she did with: "if you leave Sunnydale for good."
He frowned, and the obvious surprise in his gaze took her off guard. Slowly removing the fag from his mouth and snapping his lighter shut before retrieving both of them into one of the back pockets of his black jeans he narrowed his eyes. Then his face softened with what seemed like a realization and soon after that the infuriating self-assurance came back into his posture.
"How much is it?" he asked and she observed him for a few seconds before she answered:
"A thousand dollars."
His eyes grew.
"A thousand sodding k's?!" he barked and she took a step back. "Are you outta your bloody mind?!"
She blinked.
"I'm sorry, but I don't understand wh-..." she began, only he cut her off as he asked:
"Where the bleeding hell would you get your manicured little paws on that kinda money?"
Buffy glanced at her nails for a second, cocking an eyebrow, and then she looked back at him.
"That isn't important," she replied, voice chilled to subzero degrees as she wanted him to just take the money and leave, not keep on with his insistent bickering. "What's important is that they're yours - if you agree to the proposition."
"That I get the hell outta dodge and don't even glare over my shoulder," he stated and she nodded, wiggling the wad slightly.
Spike felt a strong tug at simply taking the money and doing what she was asking of him. Scratch that - demanding of him. She was practically commanding him out of "her" city, wasn't she? Well, there could only be one real reason why she wanted to get rid of him so badly that she took to means so low as this. Was he going to go away while he had all the aces at hand? No. No, he didn't believe that he would. It wasn't his style. He only left when he had burned all his bridges and it seemed to him like he was just about to finish building one here, though he was at a loss as to where it was actually wanting to take him.
She could almost hear his thoughts move. They crackled and moaned at her for making them work like this. At that analogy she couldn't help but smirk to herself and she quickly got rid of it as she waited for his answer. Something told her that she wasn't exactly convincing him as he kept eyeing her. She swallowed. Perhaps she wasn't really convincing herself either.
A part of her prayed he'd disappear, while another in a trembling and self- doubting way hoped that he would stay - completely blaming doing so on the fact that what she held in her hand was every last dime and nickle of her savings account; and she knew she could find a better use for the money than this.
"You know, I think I've underestimated you severely," he mumbled and she was brought back to the harsh light of day as she remembered with whom she was currently in company. "I thought you to be one of those buggering stabs- you-in-the-back type of fighters - but you're a warrior, aren't you?" She swallowed again, ignoring the fact that her palms were growing sweaty as she slowly lowered the hand holding the cash, her eyes dead centered in his as she listened to him speak. "You're fearless. You walk straight into the den of the lion though deep down you bloody know there's always the chance of being ripped apart."
She raised her eyebrows.
"Don't you mean the den of the wolf?" she quipped and he chuckled as he took a step closer.
Her heart began to pump and she couldn't control it this time. She was already too far gone as she tilted her head back to look up at him. He was a short, excrutiating inch away and her fingers tingled to feel him.
"I thought I had you figured, love," he said and she felt her legs grow weaker, the need to grab him for support was overwhelming and she had to fight every fiber of herself not to give into it. "I thought all there was to you was a sheep in wolves clothing... I'm actually shocked at how sodding wrong I was."
"Don't think that just 'cause you try to..." she started, but he reached out a hand and the touch of his cool skin against the burning one of her cheek made her words run into the sand of time and she drew a breath, shaking her head unnoticably.
His thumb slid over her lower lip and he took a step forward, his body carefully fitting itself into hers.
"I'm not going anywhere," he stated, voice lowered as his left hand moved to the small of her back, pulling her tight against him.
"Spike," she tried, her hands placing themselves on either of his upper arms and her fingers grabbing a tighter hold than she had intended as she at the same time pushed to get him away from her.
Her whole body was beginning to ache with wanting and her attemtps were weak and fruitless.
"Tell me what you really want," he whispered and she shook her head again, closing her eyes and feeling how she was folding. "Tell me why you came."
"No," she practically whimpered. "Let me go," she then pleaded. "Spike, please..."
"Look at me," he demanded and she slowly raised her gaze to his again. "You're not the begging kind...remember?" he asked gently and she felt how her last bits of defense was crumbling at her feet.
"Let me go," she repeated.
"I can't do that," he replied simply. "I still have to claim my prize."
"Well, I'm not something to be had," she retorted with her gaze hardening and he smiled.
"Why did you come?" he asked again and she shook her head at him.
"You are so stupid. I came 'cause I can't stand to have you in my life..."
"Didn't know I was in it," he filed in and she tore lose from him as her strength came back to her, holding on tightly to the simmering anger with him; with how he thought that the world was his playground and everybody his own personal toy.
"And I wanted to offer myself a way to get you the hell out of it," she added to her former statement, causing him to arch an eyebrow. "It's clear that I failed. Miserably at that. And somehow I made you believe that I actually..." she trailed off.
"Came here for a royal reminiscence of old glory days?" he helped with a devilish grin and she took the step dividing them, clenched her right hand into a fist and brought it up to strike when he caught it in his left palm and grabbed it in a hard grip.
She didn't relax her arm, but kept pushing it forward, digging her nuckles into his hand with her eyes raging at him. He didn't flinch, his gaze growing icy as well.
"Why did you slap me like that?" he then suddenly asked and she pulled her fist out of his grip as she took a step back.
Her face had calmed down and now she merely looked at him.
"'Cause you insinuated that I'd actually let you touch me," she then spat, turning from him and walking up to the door.
He was on her the next moment, spinning her around and pushing her backward harshly. Her back slammed into the old wood of the door and she gasped at the suddeness of it the moment before his body pressed her roughly up against the matter behind her and held her there. His face was so close that the tip of his nose barely managed not to touch the tip of hers and her eyes grew involuntarily as she stared up at him.
"I didn't 'insinuate' anything," he murmured. "If you feel like you can't admit the sodding truth to your friends, to soldier boy...fine. But while you're here, with me, alone - you WILL stop with this bloody pitiful charade. I KNOW you remember, Slayer."
Her gaze was once again controlled and she gave him a look at that statement.
"I don't care what you know," she then replied. "I don't care what the hell you want me to do around you 'cause the fact is simple: I take orders about as well as YOU do. So you can just..."
His tongue interrupted her.
His lips were against hers before she could even react and his tongue met hers a fraction of a moment later, causing the muffled interruption and her eyes growing huge with surprise at the feel, at the taste. And then they slowly closed themselves.
She wasn't sure if her heart was pounding or beating so slowly that she could hardly feel it. She wasn't sure exactly what was running through her head or what should be. But she knew that she had wanted him to. Had wanted him to take control and make her... This was why she had come. She knew he knew that, and it terrified her, but to deny it now was impossible.
She had known he would never leave. She had known he'd never take the money. Deep down she had known this because nothing would make him leave Sunnydale when he still had no clue as to what made him the way he was now. He would never leave until he had gotten it out of him and was restored to his full strength. And so making him the offer had been safe...hadn't it? She had known all along that she wouldn't be rid of him that easily.
Somewhere inside her something rational was asking her what the hell she was saying, but the morepart of her was so lost in him that it didn't listen, couldn't reply.
Her hands were somewhere indistinct - her right was in his hair, her left on his cheek...or was it the other way around? And her heart was pounding, no, hardly beating, no, pounding... And his mouth was hers and she owned it with every last breath of her and...
"No!" she exclaimed, pushing him away from her with a shocked, angered, disbelieving glare at him.
He found his balance after taking three steps back and he rested his blue eyes in hers with a look of silent exultation.
"Why did you do that?" she asked and he furrowed his brow, then he huffed, a smirk slowly displaying itself onto his features.
"Why the hell do you think I did it?" he asked back. "Not for the pleasure of it, that's for bleeding sure."
"I could kill you right now," she breathed, the stance she took being very close to pre-fighting and he cocked an eyebrow.
"I just proved you very wrong, cuteness," he replied matter-of-factly. "I just turned you from picture-of-honesty into raving-liar... From self- reliant into self-loathing... From blushing virgin into..." he trailed off and she took a stale step forward.
"I really do hate you," she said and his smile broadened.
"You say those words so often I'm starting to think you might be trying to make yourself hear them - and not me," he retorted and she swallowed, shaking her head.
"Here's something new - you're a bona fide lunatic."
He laughed at that, then nodded.
"You're right! I just bloody called YOU a 'virgin'! When you've always been darkness' whore, haven't you?"
Her face looked as though he had just hit her and he stared at her, too fired up with his anger at himself for feeling things when she touched him that he knew weren't real - that couldn't be real - to care if he was hurting her, if he was battering her. He didn't care.
"What...did you just call me?" she demanded, voice lowered and quivering.
"I put it too plainly? It didn't get through? Then how's this? You fight the darker part of you with every last ray of that shiny light within you, don't you? You battle it back every bloody day, but when you dream, Buffy. When you dream I know you let it out to play with your head as it pleases. In the shadow hours of night you feel completely sodding safe from yourself, from your needs, and you dance. You're so bloody lost, Slayer," he stated, shaking his head bitterly. "Sleeping with me was the best thing that could've happened to you - 'cause it made you have to face yourself, didn't it? You've been in bed with darkness for a long time, love... Not acknowledging it while awake makes you the whore."
She stood in statued silence, her eyes shining with something that could have been tears, but he knew shock and depredation when he saw it - he had witnessed it too many times to mistake it for anything else - and he came to the understanding that what he had just said had not gone by unnoticed.
"In light of that I'll have to take back my previous offer," she finally mumbled. "I'll have to tell you to leave, instead of trying to find a way to get you to leave. I'll have to make you leave, instead of just sitting back and wait for you to. You see, you're right. Sleeping with you made me see a side of me that I don't want to know - not ever. I don't walk into the lion's den knowing I might die, Spike. I walk in there certain that I will. That's why I win. Every time I fight, I fight for life or death. That's what makes me a warrior. If you don't leave, I will have to take that personal. This is my territory you're invading, and even though you might be harmless - you're still the enemy, and you can't be trusted. So if you don't leave I'll kill you. If you're not out of here by tomorrow morning, the next time we meet each other will be the definite last."
"Promise?" he asked and she smiled a humorless smile.
"I promise," she nodded, turning and opening the door.
He watched her walk through it with a stone forming somewhere near his heart. It was heavy and gray and filled with numbing remorse. He wanted to claw it out of his chest, but knew that it was there to stay.
The actual need to tell her that he was sorry, that what he had said hadn't been how he had meant to say it, was what had him walk up to the door and slam it shut with an enraged snarl. The anger took hold of him and he welcomed it with open arms, embraced it, patted its shoulder, invited it in. He let it consume him and had it chase out any other thought.
She had finally admitted it though: she remembered.
"Sodding bitch," he murmured, feeling her mouth against his again and swiping at the memory with the flaming sword of fury.
But it wouldn't be cut through. It wouldn't bleed and fade. It wouldn't die.
Why couldn't he stop his toughts from drifting back to her? They did that on their own, as of late... just made him lose track of time as he closed his eyes and remembered all the slightly changing facets of those few days they spent together... So much hate and anger. So much disdain and rueful distruction between them. So much hunger and passion. Too much need. Too much ravishing, breathtaking, careless, idiotic, blinding, incredible sensation... Too much her.
"Damn you, Buffy," he grumbled, closing his eyes yet again and cautiously being washed over with her scent and touch. "Damn you."
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Sorry that this chapter is late. I tried to post it last night but ff.net would have none of it and so I had to postpone. I really hate it when it does that! ;) Okay, well, better late than never and oh, 'tis the best part of my day when I get to do this! Thanks for giving me something to read, guys! You know this just encourages me to give something back, right? You're simply the best! A.M.L!
Special thanks filled with... well, why not yummy Spikey goodness (?!) goes out to Renee', charisma1525, Johanna (!) ;), mamadd, Captain, Haley (on both!), Alyssa, LizDarcy (and the new review I had recieved this morning) Tesschess. You guys, you make my day and all your beatiful, fun, encouraging, supporting, wonderful thoughts that you put in there is just SO great! Thank you so much for continuing to take the time, I really appreciate it!
So, I hope this wasn't too angsty or anything. I had no plans on making this story completely serious, but the depth of these charachters make it impossible for me not to explore different levels and for the story to progress... Ah, you know what I mean, I'm sure. Anyways, I hope you're still liking this!
Crossing my fingers in wait 'til next time! ;)
A.M.L, Annie.
Fifteen: In the Harsh Light of Day
By Annie
2003-04-04
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Day Ten.
3.16 p.m.
"Buffy!" Willow exclaimed happily as she entered their dorm room, putting her books on her desk before turning to her friend - seated on her bed.
"I cheerfully exclaim your name back," Buffy mumbled, pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around them as she glanced up at the redhead.
Willow frowned.
"Hey," she said, walking up to have a seat before the Slayer, "what's with the gloomyness? I thought you were in a state of round o'clock midst-of-in- love glow... What happened?"
Buffy sighed.
"Nothing 'happened' per say... It's just that Riley told me professor Walsh wants me to see the inside of the Initiative in a few days and it kinda caught me off guard. I'm just...nervous," she replied and Willow smiled. "And then Giles told me that Spike - of all demons - was helping him out the other night. For money, of course," she added, moving to the edge of the bed and getting to her feet. "Not that I actually expected him to do it 'cause he had the sudden urge to," she muttered, more to herself than to Willow, who was having a small and questioning frown grow on as Buffy began to pace.
"Are you sure nothing's going on?" the apprentice Wicca inquired, shifting where she sat so that she could face Buffy.
"It's just this thing with Riley - it's so new, you know?" she answered and Willow observed her, seemingly wanting an elaboration. "What? It is, isn't it?" was all of that that Buffy could give her and Willow smiled tentatively.
"Yeah, but a week ago you would've been voted miss Sunshine," Willow remarked. "Now half the time you go around with a wrinkle between your eyebrows and I kinda don't like it... Wanna tell?"
Buffy hesitated. Her best friend, her confidant through so much, her companion through even more...and now the Slayer actually felt reluctant, felt doubtful that this best friend this time would be able to understand. She didn't like the feeling. Another thing to absolutely loathe about this situation.
"No," Buffy now answered Willow with a small shake of the head, her pacing coming to a stop and she forced on a genuine smile; adding: "No, there's nothing TO tell."
***
4.17 p.m.
She stopped outside the doors of the crypt allegedly hosting a certain bleach-head, rolling her eyes at his sense of irony. The sarcastic touch of once more crowning himself evil, dark and rotten as he created a home for himself at such a cliché-y, two-dime-novel sort of place.
She didn't bother knocking as she entered his abode for the first time. Stepping into a small foyer, heavily decorated with yard long threads of spiderwebs hanging down from the ceiling.
Bet you he put those up himself, she muttered in her head before she pushed the second door open.
It took her into a fairly large room, which the crypt consisted of. Looking around her there was more cobwebs, heaps of dust - making her wonder if she'd been here sometime before, cleaning out a nest of some sort - and to her right a large sarcophagus, on which lay a crumpled blanket.
"You have good taste," she said outloud and there was a brief pause as silence once more slithered into her surroundings; then his voice asked to her left:
"A compliment?"
"A sarcastic one," she replied, turning to him as he stepped out of the shadows.
He smiled a small smile.
"Didn't sound like it," he pointed out and she cocked an eyebrow.
"You think I'd actually say anything good about a place that smells of dead rat and looks like it was the only surviving building of a war?" she retorted and his smile grew into a smirk.
"Between who? Charlotte and those nasty little buggers in 'Arachnophobia'?" he shot. Tilting his head a little to one side he then asked: "Was that a smile?"
Her face grew cool at that question, and whatever hint there had been to lead him to ask it was swiped away sufficiently. Turning from him she walked into the middle of the room, her hands brushing aside the evidence of the fact that there once had been life inhabiting the depressing space.
"I guess you didn't come to discuss litterature and old movies," he mumbled, following her and stopping a few feet behind her. "Did you?" he added and she turned around.
She wondered for the hundredth time what had compelled her to walk here this afternoon. She must be seriously on the verge of a melt-down, she couldn't even remember the reason for her visit. Sticking her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket as she searched for an answer to his question her fingers clasped what she had put in there half an hour earlier, and the reason came back to her with full force.
"I came to make you an offer," she said and he cocked an eyebrow.
"I'm listening," he replied, bringing out a cigarette from his back pocket and putting it in the corner of his mouth as his left hand dug up his infamous lighter.
"I'll give you this," she said, bringing her right hand out of its pocket and showing him the thick wad of bills which it held. His eyes lightened up slightly and she felt encouraged to end her sentence, which she did with: "if you leave Sunnydale for good."
He frowned, and the obvious surprise in his gaze took her off guard. Slowly removing the fag from his mouth and snapping his lighter shut before retrieving both of them into one of the back pockets of his black jeans he narrowed his eyes. Then his face softened with what seemed like a realization and soon after that the infuriating self-assurance came back into his posture.
"How much is it?" he asked and she observed him for a few seconds before she answered:
"A thousand dollars."
His eyes grew.
"A thousand sodding k's?!" he barked and she took a step back. "Are you outta your bloody mind?!"
She blinked.
"I'm sorry, but I don't understand wh-..." she began, only he cut her off as he asked:
"Where the bleeding hell would you get your manicured little paws on that kinda money?"
Buffy glanced at her nails for a second, cocking an eyebrow, and then she looked back at him.
"That isn't important," she replied, voice chilled to subzero degrees as she wanted him to just take the money and leave, not keep on with his insistent bickering. "What's important is that they're yours - if you agree to the proposition."
"That I get the hell outta dodge and don't even glare over my shoulder," he stated and she nodded, wiggling the wad slightly.
Spike felt a strong tug at simply taking the money and doing what she was asking of him. Scratch that - demanding of him. She was practically commanding him out of "her" city, wasn't she? Well, there could only be one real reason why she wanted to get rid of him so badly that she took to means so low as this. Was he going to go away while he had all the aces at hand? No. No, he didn't believe that he would. It wasn't his style. He only left when he had burned all his bridges and it seemed to him like he was just about to finish building one here, though he was at a loss as to where it was actually wanting to take him.
She could almost hear his thoughts move. They crackled and moaned at her for making them work like this. At that analogy she couldn't help but smirk to herself and she quickly got rid of it as she waited for his answer. Something told her that she wasn't exactly convincing him as he kept eyeing her. She swallowed. Perhaps she wasn't really convincing herself either.
A part of her prayed he'd disappear, while another in a trembling and self- doubting way hoped that he would stay - completely blaming doing so on the fact that what she held in her hand was every last dime and nickle of her savings account; and she knew she could find a better use for the money than this.
"You know, I think I've underestimated you severely," he mumbled and she was brought back to the harsh light of day as she remembered with whom she was currently in company. "I thought you to be one of those buggering stabs- you-in-the-back type of fighters - but you're a warrior, aren't you?" She swallowed again, ignoring the fact that her palms were growing sweaty as she slowly lowered the hand holding the cash, her eyes dead centered in his as she listened to him speak. "You're fearless. You walk straight into the den of the lion though deep down you bloody know there's always the chance of being ripped apart."
She raised her eyebrows.
"Don't you mean the den of the wolf?" she quipped and he chuckled as he took a step closer.
Her heart began to pump and she couldn't control it this time. She was already too far gone as she tilted her head back to look up at him. He was a short, excrutiating inch away and her fingers tingled to feel him.
"I thought I had you figured, love," he said and she felt her legs grow weaker, the need to grab him for support was overwhelming and she had to fight every fiber of herself not to give into it. "I thought all there was to you was a sheep in wolves clothing... I'm actually shocked at how sodding wrong I was."
"Don't think that just 'cause you try to..." she started, but he reached out a hand and the touch of his cool skin against the burning one of her cheek made her words run into the sand of time and she drew a breath, shaking her head unnoticably.
His thumb slid over her lower lip and he took a step forward, his body carefully fitting itself into hers.
"I'm not going anywhere," he stated, voice lowered as his left hand moved to the small of her back, pulling her tight against him.
"Spike," she tried, her hands placing themselves on either of his upper arms and her fingers grabbing a tighter hold than she had intended as she at the same time pushed to get him away from her.
Her whole body was beginning to ache with wanting and her attemtps were weak and fruitless.
"Tell me what you really want," he whispered and she shook her head again, closing her eyes and feeling how she was folding. "Tell me why you came."
"No," she practically whimpered. "Let me go," she then pleaded. "Spike, please..."
"Look at me," he demanded and she slowly raised her gaze to his again. "You're not the begging kind...remember?" he asked gently and she felt how her last bits of defense was crumbling at her feet.
"Let me go," she repeated.
"I can't do that," he replied simply. "I still have to claim my prize."
"Well, I'm not something to be had," she retorted with her gaze hardening and he smiled.
"Why did you come?" he asked again and she shook her head at him.
"You are so stupid. I came 'cause I can't stand to have you in my life..."
"Didn't know I was in it," he filed in and she tore lose from him as her strength came back to her, holding on tightly to the simmering anger with him; with how he thought that the world was his playground and everybody his own personal toy.
"And I wanted to offer myself a way to get you the hell out of it," she added to her former statement, causing him to arch an eyebrow. "It's clear that I failed. Miserably at that. And somehow I made you believe that I actually..." she trailed off.
"Came here for a royal reminiscence of old glory days?" he helped with a devilish grin and she took the step dividing them, clenched her right hand into a fist and brought it up to strike when he caught it in his left palm and grabbed it in a hard grip.
She didn't relax her arm, but kept pushing it forward, digging her nuckles into his hand with her eyes raging at him. He didn't flinch, his gaze growing icy as well.
"Why did you slap me like that?" he then suddenly asked and she pulled her fist out of his grip as she took a step back.
Her face had calmed down and now she merely looked at him.
"'Cause you insinuated that I'd actually let you touch me," she then spat, turning from him and walking up to the door.
He was on her the next moment, spinning her around and pushing her backward harshly. Her back slammed into the old wood of the door and she gasped at the suddeness of it the moment before his body pressed her roughly up against the matter behind her and held her there. His face was so close that the tip of his nose barely managed not to touch the tip of hers and her eyes grew involuntarily as she stared up at him.
"I didn't 'insinuate' anything," he murmured. "If you feel like you can't admit the sodding truth to your friends, to soldier boy...fine. But while you're here, with me, alone - you WILL stop with this bloody pitiful charade. I KNOW you remember, Slayer."
Her gaze was once again controlled and she gave him a look at that statement.
"I don't care what you know," she then replied. "I don't care what the hell you want me to do around you 'cause the fact is simple: I take orders about as well as YOU do. So you can just..."
His tongue interrupted her.
His lips were against hers before she could even react and his tongue met hers a fraction of a moment later, causing the muffled interruption and her eyes growing huge with surprise at the feel, at the taste. And then they slowly closed themselves.
She wasn't sure if her heart was pounding or beating so slowly that she could hardly feel it. She wasn't sure exactly what was running through her head or what should be. But she knew that she had wanted him to. Had wanted him to take control and make her... This was why she had come. She knew he knew that, and it terrified her, but to deny it now was impossible.
She had known he would never leave. She had known he'd never take the money. Deep down she had known this because nothing would make him leave Sunnydale when he still had no clue as to what made him the way he was now. He would never leave until he had gotten it out of him and was restored to his full strength. And so making him the offer had been safe...hadn't it? She had known all along that she wouldn't be rid of him that easily.
Somewhere inside her something rational was asking her what the hell she was saying, but the morepart of her was so lost in him that it didn't listen, couldn't reply.
Her hands were somewhere indistinct - her right was in his hair, her left on his cheek...or was it the other way around? And her heart was pounding, no, hardly beating, no, pounding... And his mouth was hers and she owned it with every last breath of her and...
"No!" she exclaimed, pushing him away from her with a shocked, angered, disbelieving glare at him.
He found his balance after taking three steps back and he rested his blue eyes in hers with a look of silent exultation.
"Why did you do that?" she asked and he furrowed his brow, then he huffed, a smirk slowly displaying itself onto his features.
"Why the hell do you think I did it?" he asked back. "Not for the pleasure of it, that's for bleeding sure."
"I could kill you right now," she breathed, the stance she took being very close to pre-fighting and he cocked an eyebrow.
"I just proved you very wrong, cuteness," he replied matter-of-factly. "I just turned you from picture-of-honesty into raving-liar... From self- reliant into self-loathing... From blushing virgin into..." he trailed off and she took a stale step forward.
"I really do hate you," she said and his smile broadened.
"You say those words so often I'm starting to think you might be trying to make yourself hear them - and not me," he retorted and she swallowed, shaking her head.
"Here's something new - you're a bona fide lunatic."
He laughed at that, then nodded.
"You're right! I just bloody called YOU a 'virgin'! When you've always been darkness' whore, haven't you?"
Her face looked as though he had just hit her and he stared at her, too fired up with his anger at himself for feeling things when she touched him that he knew weren't real - that couldn't be real - to care if he was hurting her, if he was battering her. He didn't care.
"What...did you just call me?" she demanded, voice lowered and quivering.
"I put it too plainly? It didn't get through? Then how's this? You fight the darker part of you with every last ray of that shiny light within you, don't you? You battle it back every bloody day, but when you dream, Buffy. When you dream I know you let it out to play with your head as it pleases. In the shadow hours of night you feel completely sodding safe from yourself, from your needs, and you dance. You're so bloody lost, Slayer," he stated, shaking his head bitterly. "Sleeping with me was the best thing that could've happened to you - 'cause it made you have to face yourself, didn't it? You've been in bed with darkness for a long time, love... Not acknowledging it while awake makes you the whore."
She stood in statued silence, her eyes shining with something that could have been tears, but he knew shock and depredation when he saw it - he had witnessed it too many times to mistake it for anything else - and he came to the understanding that what he had just said had not gone by unnoticed.
"In light of that I'll have to take back my previous offer," she finally mumbled. "I'll have to tell you to leave, instead of trying to find a way to get you to leave. I'll have to make you leave, instead of just sitting back and wait for you to. You see, you're right. Sleeping with you made me see a side of me that I don't want to know - not ever. I don't walk into the lion's den knowing I might die, Spike. I walk in there certain that I will. That's why I win. Every time I fight, I fight for life or death. That's what makes me a warrior. If you don't leave, I will have to take that personal. This is my territory you're invading, and even though you might be harmless - you're still the enemy, and you can't be trusted. So if you don't leave I'll kill you. If you're not out of here by tomorrow morning, the next time we meet each other will be the definite last."
"Promise?" he asked and she smiled a humorless smile.
"I promise," she nodded, turning and opening the door.
He watched her walk through it with a stone forming somewhere near his heart. It was heavy and gray and filled with numbing remorse. He wanted to claw it out of his chest, but knew that it was there to stay.
The actual need to tell her that he was sorry, that what he had said hadn't been how he had meant to say it, was what had him walk up to the door and slam it shut with an enraged snarl. The anger took hold of him and he welcomed it with open arms, embraced it, patted its shoulder, invited it in. He let it consume him and had it chase out any other thought.
She had finally admitted it though: she remembered.
"Sodding bitch," he murmured, feeling her mouth against his again and swiping at the memory with the flaming sword of fury.
But it wouldn't be cut through. It wouldn't bleed and fade. It wouldn't die.
Why couldn't he stop his toughts from drifting back to her? They did that on their own, as of late... just made him lose track of time as he closed his eyes and remembered all the slightly changing facets of those few days they spent together... So much hate and anger. So much disdain and rueful distruction between them. So much hunger and passion. Too much need. Too much ravishing, breathtaking, careless, idiotic, blinding, incredible sensation... Too much her.
"Damn you, Buffy," he grumbled, closing his eyes yet again and cautiously being washed over with her scent and touch. "Damn you."
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Sorry that this chapter is late. I tried to post it last night but ff.net would have none of it and so I had to postpone. I really hate it when it does that! ;) Okay, well, better late than never and oh, 'tis the best part of my day when I get to do this! Thanks for giving me something to read, guys! You know this just encourages me to give something back, right? You're simply the best! A.M.L!
Special thanks filled with... well, why not yummy Spikey goodness (?!) goes out to Renee', charisma1525, Johanna (!) ;), mamadd, Captain, Haley (on both!), Alyssa, LizDarcy (and the new review I had recieved this morning) Tesschess. You guys, you make my day and all your beatiful, fun, encouraging, supporting, wonderful thoughts that you put in there is just SO great! Thank you so much for continuing to take the time, I really appreciate it!
So, I hope this wasn't too angsty or anything. I had no plans on making this story completely serious, but the depth of these charachters make it impossible for me not to explore different levels and for the story to progress... Ah, you know what I mean, I'm sure. Anyways, I hope you're still liking this!
Crossing my fingers in wait 'til next time! ;)
A.M.L, Annie.