*********************************TRApPeD************************************
Twenty-One: Something Else
By Annie
2003-04-16
****************************************************************************
Day Thirteen.
9.02 p.m.
He ignored her for nearly a minute, walking around and putting small flames to dance on more candles with his lighter in a firm grip. She watched him in silence, studied his wounds until she felt she would be able to clean them blindfolded, and because of that thought making herself look away from him. Stepping further into the room she stopped in the middle of the floor and once more turned her eyes on him just as he finished with the last candle and looked up to meet her gaze.
He looked mad. She couldn't tell why.
"Want me to leave?" she asked.
"No," he replied, though he didn't sound all that sure.
"'Cause I could," she stated and he cocked an eyebrow.
"If I wanted you to, I'm sure you'd stay right where you are now for the rest of the evening," he muttered and she put her hands at her hips in a protesting gesture.
"Maybe that's what YOU'D do," she then retorted and a small smile graced his lips at that, before she continued: "but we're not as alike as you seem to think. Do you want me to leave?" she repeated her question and he tucked the lighter into the pocket of his duster before letting the latter slip off his shoulders.
Throwing the leather over the back of an armchair - which she hadn't noticed before - he then had his eyes in hers once more, holding her gaze he then answered:
"No."
She nodded, turning from him to take a look around the place. The last time she had been there hadn't granted her the opportunity and now... Well, the cobwebs were gone. There was a fridge...
"How on earth did you get access to electricity?" she wondered, looking at him again and he shrugged, moving to sit down in the armchair - which was just about the only piece of furniture there except for a busted up TV - and with a tired grumble he rested his head back.
"I won't tell," he replied, closing his eyes and she looked at him for a few moments before approaching him. "If I told you, someday I'm sure you'd use it against me. Cut the bloody wire and leave me hanging..."
Her fingertips gently sliding around the cut on his forehead made him come to an abrupt halt in his accusations and he opened his eyes to look at her where she had taken a seat by his left arm. She met his gaze briefly, then moved her own up to what her hands were doing again and he was free to stare at her all he wanted.
"What are you...?" he began, but she cut him off with:
"Got a first-aid kit?"
"You've gotta be buggering..."
"Got-a-first-aid-kit?" she repeated and he tried not to gape before he put on an indifferent expression and gestured toward the sarcophagus.
She raised her eyebrows meaningfully and then got to her feet, moving up to the spot and getting the heavy lid off of it without any effort. Peeking inside she frowned at the ugly skeleton, decorated with scraps of decayed flesh.
"Was that supposed to be funny?" she asked, popping her head up to look over at the vamp.
"Underneath it, love," he merely replied and she followed that instruction, pulling the silk on which the skeleton lay aside and finding a small stash of belongings there.
She grabbed the tattered box with a red cross painted on top of it and then walked back up to the armchair, taking her previous seat on the left armrest.
"You know, this looks like it was saved from the grip of the second world war or something," she pointed out, grasping at the rough edges of the lid and prying it open carefully.
"What's to say it wasn't?" he pointed out, eyes yet again closed and head leaned back.
"Right, you were alive and kicking back then," she mumbled, smiling just a little as she added: "So to speak."
She began to rummage through the contents and then she got to her feet.
"Got water?" she wondered and he nodded.
"In the fridge," he said and she walked up to it, found the bottle and brought it back to him - along with a dusty kitchen towel; which she, to her own surprise, had found.
Soaking the cloth carefully she sat down again, leaning forward to see in the dim light she began to clean the blood off.
Her warmth was pressed against his shoulder, it seemed. Her scent intoxicating as it swiveled around his head and her closeness felt too near, and much too bare. Why was she even caring? What was she doing?
"Buffy," he mumbled, opening his eyes just as she moved the towel to the wound and he bit his jaws together at the thunderclap of pain.
"Don't tell me you're gonna complain," she said and at the actual tease in those words he grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the towel and moved it away from him, catching her gaze and holding it he looked up at her.
Her heart was picking up its pace. What answer was he trying to find? He looked at her in a way that made her think there had to be a question he was asking. But she'd already answered it - she did want him... She...
He let her wrist go and let his arm fall along his side again, tilting his head the fraction of an inch to one side as he watched her in a silence which expanded time and seemed to will it into slow motion. She had to break it.
"Why did they do this?" she asked, moving her hand back to its original position and dabbing the wound as gently as she could as she waited for his answer.
"What do you care?" he simply asked back and she thought that - behind the everlasting grouchiness - there seemed to be an actual query.
She didn't dwell on that, merely replied:
"It's my business - as the Slayer."
He suddenly smirked, giving her a sideway glance.
"Right. The heroine protects the helpless and the outcasts," he nodded, then rose to his feet and she sighed. "I'm neither," he added, voice growing cold and she swallowed.
"That's not what I said. Here's a shiny example of you putting words in my mouth," she remarked and he seemed to lose some of his assurance as he looked down at her. "Now sit... Please."
He hesitated, then grumbled and did as she requested.
"What I meant was: what goes on around me is my business - as the Slayer," she now elaborated her former sentence and he gave her a look as she reached into the box and brought out a small band-aid. "Now tell me - why did they do this?"
"Because of my sodding hobby of killing off demons, what the hell 'd you think?" he muttered, making a face as she pulled the wound closed before fastening the band-aid to keep it that way. "Seems I'm an involuntary bloody part of your little posse, pet," he added and she cocked an eyebrow.
"Something tells me you don't do anything 'involuntarily'," she retorted and at that a real smile split his face before he looked away from her.
Clearing his throat he got rid of the display of how right she was in assuming that, and then her fingers were under his chin, making him turn his head to her and tilt it back slightly so that she could have a look at his lip and nose.
"You'll heal," she stated and he raised his eyebrows.
"There was never any question of that," he replied and she removed her hand with a small nod.
She rose to her feet, seemed to give something a short dispatch of thought and then she turned to him again. Hesitantly she met his gaze and then she asked:
"If you only kill for the kill itself... where's the pleasure?"
He found himself rather stumped at that question.
"You've killed," he then slowly replied. "You know the feeling... The power. That overwhelming rush."
She looked at him, then shook her head slowly.
"No," she said. "I don't know the kind you're under 'cause when I kill, I kill with purpose. To save life, to preserve life... I have a cause. You kill because you feel like it, on a whim. Because that's your nature. Because it's your instinct."
"And your instinct isn't based on the kill?" he wondered. "On catching the prey and doing away with it?"
"But, Spike, you don't hunt anymore. You only kill," she remarked and under her gaze he found himself feeling small and ignorant. He didn't like it. "I can't understand that," she finished, turning from him and heading for the door.
"You trying to understand me, Slayer?" he asked quietly and she paused in the doorway, hand on the knob as she turned partially to him.
"Maybe I just think it's time you chose sides," she answered cryptically, continuing through the door and disappearing from view.
***
Day Fifteen.
9.27 p.m.
He hadn't seen her since she left his place two nights ago. And to be perfectly honest with himself - himself being the only creature he ever was completely honest with - he had been avoiding her to avoid her small demand; if that was how he should label it. He felt cornered now; surrounded by sky-high walls on all sides but one, and in that one - she stood; blocking his escape.
He didn't know what he should do to get around her. If he used violence she'd merely mirror it and they could fight forever, their strengths really were much too alike for an easy outcome to a declaration of battle. If he used his head she'd twist it - she already was doing just that - and he'd be swearing her his undying mark of a liaison between them by the end of the night.
He grumbled to himself as he walked across the sixth cemetery, headed for home. He was annoyed now. These thoughts of her had kept him in a moving emotional state for the past forty-eight hours and just when he thought he had found a missing piece of the puzzle it was snatched out of his hands and once more he was left fumbling for a new one. He absolutely detested this feeling of no control. And SHE was the cause of it, of course.
'When I kill, I kill with a purpose.'
Stupid sodding brainless bint!
He HAD a purpose, and the purpose was himself. He had killed for a hundred years, did she expect him to CHOOSE it away? Did she expect he HAD a choice in the sodding matter? He was evil, for crying out loud. And still she stood there, judging him and trying to make him come to a decision about HIS existence, which had functioned perfectly well until the cursed day he laid eyes on HER!
So, why had she said that? Did she believe that he'd actually join her? Did she really think that?
What's so funny? a voice remarked. You'd walk through fire for her and your scoffing at this? Seems YOU'RE the sodding brainless git in this scenario.
"Oh, shut the bloody hell up," he growled. "I don't HAVE a conscience so don't even buggering start!"
So what's that gray moving in the dark? What's that air of hope you seem to be set on living off of? What are you really hoping for...William?
He rammed his fist into a nearby tree trunk as he screamed for the feeling to go away, for the sense of slipping out of his own skin to get the hell away from him! This couldn't be happening. It wasn't supposed to go down like this. He couldn't change! How could he possibly change?!
And yet, something was. He was. Changing. What she had asked him, before the sentence which had left him so rattled, had gotten to him on a different level and he had had her voice echoing through his head as it kept repeating the question "If you only kill for the kill itself - where's the pleasure?". It was followed by her mumble of "I can't understand that."
He wanted her to understand. He needed it so badly it scared him. He had tried to find a good enough explanation, but the one he had given her when she asked him seemed to be the only one willing to present itself. It sounded so crass, so meaningless, so meek.
He didn't like the gray. He wanted it gone. He didn't like how it made him really feel and think over things that he had done; was going to do... He couldn't stand that gray twist of new inside of him, dancing slowly as it cradled his emotions related to her in its arms.
And another thought came to him as well.
She's stronger, it stated softly.
A thousand times stronger than you are.
She fights a fight that is that much more of a struggle than anything you've ever even imagined. And she's never had the choice.
He swallowed, turning his head as he heard a punch connect with bone covered with skin. Slowly making his way along a row of tombstones he stopped by three tall pines and tried to see through the branches.
Buffy.
She was winning; the vampire was already recoiling in the presence of her - as always - obvious determination, and most of all - power. Bringing out her stake she took a few more turns with the doomed creature before she sunk her weapon into its heart.
She straightened her posture, squared her shoulders, tucked her stake back in place and then turned to meet the bleached vampire's approving gaze. He took a step forward, trying not to look too admiring as he realized she must have felt him about the same time he did her. Paranormal senses were a bitch that way.
He had the insecurity loop itself around his heart as he for the first time ever felt anything remotely like it in her presence, and it made him even more uncomfortable. He didn't know what to say; wasn't sure what she wanted from him. What he wanted.
She was watching him - waiting for something, or hesitating just like him, which one of it it was he had no way to figure out.
And so they stood, in silence, before he noticed the streak in her eyes making him remark:
"You look tired."
"I'll live," she replied.
"I saw you last night, patrolling..." he began, biting his jaws together as her eyebrows rose questioningly. "I just mean that you've been doing a bleeding lotta that lately... Patrolling," he added and loathed the uncertainty in his voice.
She had caught herself just in time to prevent herself from asking him why he hadn't saw it fit to declare himself by means of a 'bloody awful night we're having, eh?' or a 'need any help with the Slaying I'll be over here watching for someone who might wanna jump in' or at least a 'hello, I hate you...now good-bye'...the sort of things he always threw in her face any chance he got.
"Yeah, well," she now merely sighed.
After their last encounter she had tried not to think about him, had fought to not read too much into what she had actually said to him right before leaving. Read things like her trying to ask for help, her actually wanting his help, her pretty much needing his help...and then again not really, did she? Not wanting to dig further into that her mind had stubbornly disobeyed and continued with: if you're not asking or wanting or needing his help...then why are you so hoping that he'll come to you with an answer that...
No.
Shuddering at the mere thought she had shut it off and out of her mind.
Seeing him now, however, made a small swirl of eagerness start up in the back of her somewhere, and she couldn't for the life of her understand where it was coming from. He had never proven himself worthy of any such thing. She couldn't trust him in any matter what so ever and if he DID offer his help he'd probably - in the end - just turn around and stab her in the back.
Because that's WHO HE IS, she told herself.
It was YOU who said that YOU DON'T KNOW HIM, that stubborn streak he had muttered about a few nights ago spoke up and she rolled her eyes at herself.
I know his type, that's all I need, she assured. He's so deep into the whole bad-ass act that he wouldn't know white from black. Tell a lie enough times eventually you'll come to believe it. He's been lying for over five times the amount of years I've been on this planet. Think those habits are just to shrug off? Please! He'll lie to me, cheat and steal and kill and he won't ever change. Nobody changes that easily and least of all HIM.
So stop hoping he will.
I'm not HOPING for anything here!
"Right, then," he said and she cocked an eyebrow.
"Where's the mouth you usually wear? It's trademarks are it being so very talkative, a necessity to be constantly beaten up and oh, yeah, the oh-so- fun NEVER shutting up when it really should..."
"I left it at home," he interrupted and she crossed her arms over her chest.
They were more than ten feet apart and yet she could almost feel his arms around her. She shook it off, all that was done with now. She had meant what she had said - she wanted all of it to be over. To her it was. She just might need his help...
No, you don't.
...on this ADAM thing!
Sometimes she really hated herself.
"Go get it," she now encouraged him. "I don't know what to say when you stand there all... I don't know what!"
"I'm not 'all'," he replied, slightly agitated. "And you're one to bloody talk."
She gave him a look at that, then her eyes moved to his forehead and her face grew less annoyed as she said:
"The cut's gone."
He lifted one hand to the spot in mere reflex, brushing his fingers over it before he smiled a little.
"Yeah..." he agreed.
They grew quiet again and he sighed, shaking his head before stating:
"It'd never work."
She glanced up at him, frowning quizzically though she had the most awful idea what he was referring to.
"You know it'd never work," he now added and she swallowed, then nodded slowly. "We're too..."
"Competitive," she filled in.
"Prone to the whole 'mortal enemies' bit - I was gonna say," he replied. "But that other thing too," he added and she looked away from him, the disappointment a fact she didn't want to face.
"You're right," she then concurred. "Too different."
"Too opposite."
"You know, YOU said that opposites attract," she remarked and at that he raised both eyebrows, making her grow extremely self-conscious before she added: "I'm just saying."
"Well, yes and no. What I said was opposites complete each other," he pointed out and she unfolded her arms as she met his gaze again. "And that was just a line," he added and her eyes grew slightly at that.
"If you're that good an actor..." she began, trailing off before she grumbled: "You're that good an actor."
He cocked an eyebrow, observing her face as it hardened slightly. Why was she even listening to him? Why was she standing here, discussing this with him?
"What can I say, love?" he asked silently. "That being with you had some profound impact on me?"
"Shut up," she murmured.
Why was he pushing her like this? He couldn't answer that for himself, he could only let himself do what he needed, do what he had to. This seemed to be it.
"It didn't," he continued, holding her eyes steadily. "Like I said - this'd never work. You and me. Day and night. Push and pull... Good and evil. Side by side?" he wondered, tilting his head slightly to one side before he finished: "You never really thought so, did you?"
She took a step back, feeling the anger with him sift through her soul.
"Then you go back to yours," she replied, voice laced with the emotion inside of her. "And I'll go back to mine. And the next time we meet, don't you even dare talk to me."
He watched her turn and leave.
There was his answer.
There was his bit of the puzzle practically tucked into his palm.
She had thought that he would; she had believed that he was going to choose the path of light - in spite of his own nature, his own instinct. She had believed that he was going to choose her.
Why?
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Phew, what could be the plausible reason? Tricky-tricky. Will SHE get it? Will he ASK her? What WILL happen?! Stay tuned, my friends, stay tuned! ;)
I can't believe the feedback you guys keep drowning me in. Oh, don't get me wrong, it's "drowning" in the absolutely most fabulous way of the word! Thank you so much! Drench me, drench me! ;)
Very warm and Easter-y thank yous to Night (Thanks a lot for liking it and...hope you'll find your patience...) ;), InfoGal (well, wow back! Thanks so much for that. *hugs back* !!!), Haley (aw, thank you, thank you. ;) Oh, nice!) :), charisma1525 (Thank you a thousand times over for wonderful thoughts! I'm so happy to read them!) :), Alyssa (Your review made me really laugh out loud, girl. But in a very happy, non-malicious way. ;) Thanks a lot. And NO! *grin*), Pine (*grinning widely* Oh, yes, I know that one. "She's all that" phase... ;) Thank you and well...and weeeelll....) :P, Heather (Oh-ho-ho, you'd better bet your ass I was kidding! If you don't bet at least that I just will make all your late night nightmares about Buffy and Riley without Spike come true on this paper! *lol*) ;), learyl (thanks for that and I'm happy to hear from you!) :), Ark (oh, thank you for devoting late hours to this. Very flattering. :) Thank you!), Charlie (hey. It's totally cool, you know that. But I'm always so happy to hear from ya! Thanks a loooot.) :), Annette (hey, thanks for that.) :), TheRealiz (oh, my. Well, thank you yourself for sharing your apprectiation for it with me. It makes me veeery happy! Great that you enjoy!) ;), Taz (haha, oh, yes, she really was. And thanks for that!) :), Callie (wow. Talk about slapping a grin over my face with this one. Really, really nice to read your feedback, and I'm SO happy you like it. I hope you still are... :) Also, wash with soap - totally. A given, even. Ouch, but yeah. You really lifted me with this! Thanks for taking the time and sharing your thoughts!) :), brey's master (hi and thanks so much! Great that you do so!) ;) and LizDarcy (oh, thank you my friend. Bummer they keep getting all screwed up! But thanks!) :) - you ALL just give me wings and I can't ever thank you enough for that! Yayyayyay!
Okay, so - two chapter deal to make up for the fact of four days which will be chapterless. We're having guests here for Easter and so... I know, my fingers are already itching. Hopefully I will have a nice stash of reviews when I get back to the computer AND you'll have a nice, fresh chapter at the latest posted on Monday. This I dare to promise.
Again with the Thank You and Happy Easter, everybody.
All My Love, Annie.
Twenty-One: Something Else
By Annie
2003-04-16
****************************************************************************
Day Thirteen.
9.02 p.m.
He ignored her for nearly a minute, walking around and putting small flames to dance on more candles with his lighter in a firm grip. She watched him in silence, studied his wounds until she felt she would be able to clean them blindfolded, and because of that thought making herself look away from him. Stepping further into the room she stopped in the middle of the floor and once more turned her eyes on him just as he finished with the last candle and looked up to meet her gaze.
He looked mad. She couldn't tell why.
"Want me to leave?" she asked.
"No," he replied, though he didn't sound all that sure.
"'Cause I could," she stated and he cocked an eyebrow.
"If I wanted you to, I'm sure you'd stay right where you are now for the rest of the evening," he muttered and she put her hands at her hips in a protesting gesture.
"Maybe that's what YOU'D do," she then retorted and a small smile graced his lips at that, before she continued: "but we're not as alike as you seem to think. Do you want me to leave?" she repeated her question and he tucked the lighter into the pocket of his duster before letting the latter slip off his shoulders.
Throwing the leather over the back of an armchair - which she hadn't noticed before - he then had his eyes in hers once more, holding her gaze he then answered:
"No."
She nodded, turning from him to take a look around the place. The last time she had been there hadn't granted her the opportunity and now... Well, the cobwebs were gone. There was a fridge...
"How on earth did you get access to electricity?" she wondered, looking at him again and he shrugged, moving to sit down in the armchair - which was just about the only piece of furniture there except for a busted up TV - and with a tired grumble he rested his head back.
"I won't tell," he replied, closing his eyes and she looked at him for a few moments before approaching him. "If I told you, someday I'm sure you'd use it against me. Cut the bloody wire and leave me hanging..."
Her fingertips gently sliding around the cut on his forehead made him come to an abrupt halt in his accusations and he opened his eyes to look at her where she had taken a seat by his left arm. She met his gaze briefly, then moved her own up to what her hands were doing again and he was free to stare at her all he wanted.
"What are you...?" he began, but she cut him off with:
"Got a first-aid kit?"
"You've gotta be buggering..."
"Got-a-first-aid-kit?" she repeated and he tried not to gape before he put on an indifferent expression and gestured toward the sarcophagus.
She raised her eyebrows meaningfully and then got to her feet, moving up to the spot and getting the heavy lid off of it without any effort. Peeking inside she frowned at the ugly skeleton, decorated with scraps of decayed flesh.
"Was that supposed to be funny?" she asked, popping her head up to look over at the vamp.
"Underneath it, love," he merely replied and she followed that instruction, pulling the silk on which the skeleton lay aside and finding a small stash of belongings there.
She grabbed the tattered box with a red cross painted on top of it and then walked back up to the armchair, taking her previous seat on the left armrest.
"You know, this looks like it was saved from the grip of the second world war or something," she pointed out, grasping at the rough edges of the lid and prying it open carefully.
"What's to say it wasn't?" he pointed out, eyes yet again closed and head leaned back.
"Right, you were alive and kicking back then," she mumbled, smiling just a little as she added: "So to speak."
She began to rummage through the contents and then she got to her feet.
"Got water?" she wondered and he nodded.
"In the fridge," he said and she walked up to it, found the bottle and brought it back to him - along with a dusty kitchen towel; which she, to her own surprise, had found.
Soaking the cloth carefully she sat down again, leaning forward to see in the dim light she began to clean the blood off.
Her warmth was pressed against his shoulder, it seemed. Her scent intoxicating as it swiveled around his head and her closeness felt too near, and much too bare. Why was she even caring? What was she doing?
"Buffy," he mumbled, opening his eyes just as she moved the towel to the wound and he bit his jaws together at the thunderclap of pain.
"Don't tell me you're gonna complain," she said and at the actual tease in those words he grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the towel and moved it away from him, catching her gaze and holding it he looked up at her.
Her heart was picking up its pace. What answer was he trying to find? He looked at her in a way that made her think there had to be a question he was asking. But she'd already answered it - she did want him... She...
He let her wrist go and let his arm fall along his side again, tilting his head the fraction of an inch to one side as he watched her in a silence which expanded time and seemed to will it into slow motion. She had to break it.
"Why did they do this?" she asked, moving her hand back to its original position and dabbing the wound as gently as she could as she waited for his answer.
"What do you care?" he simply asked back and she thought that - behind the everlasting grouchiness - there seemed to be an actual query.
She didn't dwell on that, merely replied:
"It's my business - as the Slayer."
He suddenly smirked, giving her a sideway glance.
"Right. The heroine protects the helpless and the outcasts," he nodded, then rose to his feet and she sighed. "I'm neither," he added, voice growing cold and she swallowed.
"That's not what I said. Here's a shiny example of you putting words in my mouth," she remarked and he seemed to lose some of his assurance as he looked down at her. "Now sit... Please."
He hesitated, then grumbled and did as she requested.
"What I meant was: what goes on around me is my business - as the Slayer," she now elaborated her former sentence and he gave her a look as she reached into the box and brought out a small band-aid. "Now tell me - why did they do this?"
"Because of my sodding hobby of killing off demons, what the hell 'd you think?" he muttered, making a face as she pulled the wound closed before fastening the band-aid to keep it that way. "Seems I'm an involuntary bloody part of your little posse, pet," he added and she cocked an eyebrow.
"Something tells me you don't do anything 'involuntarily'," she retorted and at that a real smile split his face before he looked away from her.
Clearing his throat he got rid of the display of how right she was in assuming that, and then her fingers were under his chin, making him turn his head to her and tilt it back slightly so that she could have a look at his lip and nose.
"You'll heal," she stated and he raised his eyebrows.
"There was never any question of that," he replied and she removed her hand with a small nod.
She rose to her feet, seemed to give something a short dispatch of thought and then she turned to him again. Hesitantly she met his gaze and then she asked:
"If you only kill for the kill itself... where's the pleasure?"
He found himself rather stumped at that question.
"You've killed," he then slowly replied. "You know the feeling... The power. That overwhelming rush."
She looked at him, then shook her head slowly.
"No," she said. "I don't know the kind you're under 'cause when I kill, I kill with purpose. To save life, to preserve life... I have a cause. You kill because you feel like it, on a whim. Because that's your nature. Because it's your instinct."
"And your instinct isn't based on the kill?" he wondered. "On catching the prey and doing away with it?"
"But, Spike, you don't hunt anymore. You only kill," she remarked and under her gaze he found himself feeling small and ignorant. He didn't like it. "I can't understand that," she finished, turning from him and heading for the door.
"You trying to understand me, Slayer?" he asked quietly and she paused in the doorway, hand on the knob as she turned partially to him.
"Maybe I just think it's time you chose sides," she answered cryptically, continuing through the door and disappearing from view.
***
Day Fifteen.
9.27 p.m.
He hadn't seen her since she left his place two nights ago. And to be perfectly honest with himself - himself being the only creature he ever was completely honest with - he had been avoiding her to avoid her small demand; if that was how he should label it. He felt cornered now; surrounded by sky-high walls on all sides but one, and in that one - she stood; blocking his escape.
He didn't know what he should do to get around her. If he used violence she'd merely mirror it and they could fight forever, their strengths really were much too alike for an easy outcome to a declaration of battle. If he used his head she'd twist it - she already was doing just that - and he'd be swearing her his undying mark of a liaison between them by the end of the night.
He grumbled to himself as he walked across the sixth cemetery, headed for home. He was annoyed now. These thoughts of her had kept him in a moving emotional state for the past forty-eight hours and just when he thought he had found a missing piece of the puzzle it was snatched out of his hands and once more he was left fumbling for a new one. He absolutely detested this feeling of no control. And SHE was the cause of it, of course.
'When I kill, I kill with a purpose.'
Stupid sodding brainless bint!
He HAD a purpose, and the purpose was himself. He had killed for a hundred years, did she expect him to CHOOSE it away? Did she expect he HAD a choice in the sodding matter? He was evil, for crying out loud. And still she stood there, judging him and trying to make him come to a decision about HIS existence, which had functioned perfectly well until the cursed day he laid eyes on HER!
So, why had she said that? Did she believe that he'd actually join her? Did she really think that?
What's so funny? a voice remarked. You'd walk through fire for her and your scoffing at this? Seems YOU'RE the sodding brainless git in this scenario.
"Oh, shut the bloody hell up," he growled. "I don't HAVE a conscience so don't even buggering start!"
So what's that gray moving in the dark? What's that air of hope you seem to be set on living off of? What are you really hoping for...William?
He rammed his fist into a nearby tree trunk as he screamed for the feeling to go away, for the sense of slipping out of his own skin to get the hell away from him! This couldn't be happening. It wasn't supposed to go down like this. He couldn't change! How could he possibly change?!
And yet, something was. He was. Changing. What she had asked him, before the sentence which had left him so rattled, had gotten to him on a different level and he had had her voice echoing through his head as it kept repeating the question "If you only kill for the kill itself - where's the pleasure?". It was followed by her mumble of "I can't understand that."
He wanted her to understand. He needed it so badly it scared him. He had tried to find a good enough explanation, but the one he had given her when she asked him seemed to be the only one willing to present itself. It sounded so crass, so meaningless, so meek.
He didn't like the gray. He wanted it gone. He didn't like how it made him really feel and think over things that he had done; was going to do... He couldn't stand that gray twist of new inside of him, dancing slowly as it cradled his emotions related to her in its arms.
And another thought came to him as well.
She's stronger, it stated softly.
A thousand times stronger than you are.
She fights a fight that is that much more of a struggle than anything you've ever even imagined. And she's never had the choice.
He swallowed, turning his head as he heard a punch connect with bone covered with skin. Slowly making his way along a row of tombstones he stopped by three tall pines and tried to see through the branches.
Buffy.
She was winning; the vampire was already recoiling in the presence of her - as always - obvious determination, and most of all - power. Bringing out her stake she took a few more turns with the doomed creature before she sunk her weapon into its heart.
She straightened her posture, squared her shoulders, tucked her stake back in place and then turned to meet the bleached vampire's approving gaze. He took a step forward, trying not to look too admiring as he realized she must have felt him about the same time he did her. Paranormal senses were a bitch that way.
He had the insecurity loop itself around his heart as he for the first time ever felt anything remotely like it in her presence, and it made him even more uncomfortable. He didn't know what to say; wasn't sure what she wanted from him. What he wanted.
She was watching him - waiting for something, or hesitating just like him, which one of it it was he had no way to figure out.
And so they stood, in silence, before he noticed the streak in her eyes making him remark:
"You look tired."
"I'll live," she replied.
"I saw you last night, patrolling..." he began, biting his jaws together as her eyebrows rose questioningly. "I just mean that you've been doing a bleeding lotta that lately... Patrolling," he added and loathed the uncertainty in his voice.
She had caught herself just in time to prevent herself from asking him why he hadn't saw it fit to declare himself by means of a 'bloody awful night we're having, eh?' or a 'need any help with the Slaying I'll be over here watching for someone who might wanna jump in' or at least a 'hello, I hate you...now good-bye'...the sort of things he always threw in her face any chance he got.
"Yeah, well," she now merely sighed.
After their last encounter she had tried not to think about him, had fought to not read too much into what she had actually said to him right before leaving. Read things like her trying to ask for help, her actually wanting his help, her pretty much needing his help...and then again not really, did she? Not wanting to dig further into that her mind had stubbornly disobeyed and continued with: if you're not asking or wanting or needing his help...then why are you so hoping that he'll come to you with an answer that...
No.
Shuddering at the mere thought she had shut it off and out of her mind.
Seeing him now, however, made a small swirl of eagerness start up in the back of her somewhere, and she couldn't for the life of her understand where it was coming from. He had never proven himself worthy of any such thing. She couldn't trust him in any matter what so ever and if he DID offer his help he'd probably - in the end - just turn around and stab her in the back.
Because that's WHO HE IS, she told herself.
It was YOU who said that YOU DON'T KNOW HIM, that stubborn streak he had muttered about a few nights ago spoke up and she rolled her eyes at herself.
I know his type, that's all I need, she assured. He's so deep into the whole bad-ass act that he wouldn't know white from black. Tell a lie enough times eventually you'll come to believe it. He's been lying for over five times the amount of years I've been on this planet. Think those habits are just to shrug off? Please! He'll lie to me, cheat and steal and kill and he won't ever change. Nobody changes that easily and least of all HIM.
So stop hoping he will.
I'm not HOPING for anything here!
"Right, then," he said and she cocked an eyebrow.
"Where's the mouth you usually wear? It's trademarks are it being so very talkative, a necessity to be constantly beaten up and oh, yeah, the oh-so- fun NEVER shutting up when it really should..."
"I left it at home," he interrupted and she crossed her arms over her chest.
They were more than ten feet apart and yet she could almost feel his arms around her. She shook it off, all that was done with now. She had meant what she had said - she wanted all of it to be over. To her it was. She just might need his help...
No, you don't.
...on this ADAM thing!
Sometimes she really hated herself.
"Go get it," she now encouraged him. "I don't know what to say when you stand there all... I don't know what!"
"I'm not 'all'," he replied, slightly agitated. "And you're one to bloody talk."
She gave him a look at that, then her eyes moved to his forehead and her face grew less annoyed as she said:
"The cut's gone."
He lifted one hand to the spot in mere reflex, brushing his fingers over it before he smiled a little.
"Yeah..." he agreed.
They grew quiet again and he sighed, shaking his head before stating:
"It'd never work."
She glanced up at him, frowning quizzically though she had the most awful idea what he was referring to.
"You know it'd never work," he now added and she swallowed, then nodded slowly. "We're too..."
"Competitive," she filled in.
"Prone to the whole 'mortal enemies' bit - I was gonna say," he replied. "But that other thing too," he added and she looked away from him, the disappointment a fact she didn't want to face.
"You're right," she then concurred. "Too different."
"Too opposite."
"You know, YOU said that opposites attract," she remarked and at that he raised both eyebrows, making her grow extremely self-conscious before she added: "I'm just saying."
"Well, yes and no. What I said was opposites complete each other," he pointed out and she unfolded her arms as she met his gaze again. "And that was just a line," he added and her eyes grew slightly at that.
"If you're that good an actor..." she began, trailing off before she grumbled: "You're that good an actor."
He cocked an eyebrow, observing her face as it hardened slightly. Why was she even listening to him? Why was she standing here, discussing this with him?
"What can I say, love?" he asked silently. "That being with you had some profound impact on me?"
"Shut up," she murmured.
Why was he pushing her like this? He couldn't answer that for himself, he could only let himself do what he needed, do what he had to. This seemed to be it.
"It didn't," he continued, holding her eyes steadily. "Like I said - this'd never work. You and me. Day and night. Push and pull... Good and evil. Side by side?" he wondered, tilting his head slightly to one side before he finished: "You never really thought so, did you?"
She took a step back, feeling the anger with him sift through her soul.
"Then you go back to yours," she replied, voice laced with the emotion inside of her. "And I'll go back to mine. And the next time we meet, don't you even dare talk to me."
He watched her turn and leave.
There was his answer.
There was his bit of the puzzle practically tucked into his palm.
She had thought that he would; she had believed that he was going to choose the path of light - in spite of his own nature, his own instinct. She had believed that he was going to choose her.
Why?
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Phew, what could be the plausible reason? Tricky-tricky. Will SHE get it? Will he ASK her? What WILL happen?! Stay tuned, my friends, stay tuned! ;)
I can't believe the feedback you guys keep drowning me in. Oh, don't get me wrong, it's "drowning" in the absolutely most fabulous way of the word! Thank you so much! Drench me, drench me! ;)
Very warm and Easter-y thank yous to Night (Thanks a lot for liking it and...hope you'll find your patience...) ;), InfoGal (well, wow back! Thanks so much for that. *hugs back* !!!), Haley (aw, thank you, thank you. ;) Oh, nice!) :), charisma1525 (Thank you a thousand times over for wonderful thoughts! I'm so happy to read them!) :), Alyssa (Your review made me really laugh out loud, girl. But in a very happy, non-malicious way. ;) Thanks a lot. And NO! *grin*), Pine (*grinning widely* Oh, yes, I know that one. "She's all that" phase... ;) Thank you and well...and weeeelll....) :P, Heather (Oh-ho-ho, you'd better bet your ass I was kidding! If you don't bet at least that I just will make all your late night nightmares about Buffy and Riley without Spike come true on this paper! *lol*) ;), learyl (thanks for that and I'm happy to hear from you!) :), Ark (oh, thank you for devoting late hours to this. Very flattering. :) Thank you!), Charlie (hey. It's totally cool, you know that. But I'm always so happy to hear from ya! Thanks a loooot.) :), Annette (hey, thanks for that.) :), TheRealiz (oh, my. Well, thank you yourself for sharing your apprectiation for it with me. It makes me veeery happy! Great that you enjoy!) ;), Taz (haha, oh, yes, she really was. And thanks for that!) :), Callie (wow. Talk about slapping a grin over my face with this one. Really, really nice to read your feedback, and I'm SO happy you like it. I hope you still are... :) Also, wash with soap - totally. A given, even. Ouch, but yeah. You really lifted me with this! Thanks for taking the time and sharing your thoughts!) :), brey's master (hi and thanks so much! Great that you do so!) ;) and LizDarcy (oh, thank you my friend. Bummer they keep getting all screwed up! But thanks!) :) - you ALL just give me wings and I can't ever thank you enough for that! Yayyayyay!
Okay, so - two chapter deal to make up for the fact of four days which will be chapterless. We're having guests here for Easter and so... I know, my fingers are already itching. Hopefully I will have a nice stash of reviews when I get back to the computer AND you'll have a nice, fresh chapter at the latest posted on Monday. This I dare to promise.
Again with the Thank You and Happy Easter, everybody.
All My Love, Annie.