Disclaimer: I own no part of CB, yada, yada, yada…
Chapter 5: Working Against the Demons
"DIE ASSHOLE!" Spike yelled sitting up, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Dark green hair was plastered to his head, and his half naked body was soaked in sweat. One shaky hand reached for his pack of smokes. Only after it was half way gone did his pulse return to almost normal. He disentangled himself from the sheets and pulled on a pair of loose gray sweatpants. Every time he dreamed of killing Vicious, the only thing that could truly calm him down was a good workout. He glanced at the clock sitting on the cluttered nightstand. It was only seven. Why so early, he groaned inwardly. He sighed in defeat and walked out the door. He would just start earlier than usual today.
He walked down the hall to the bathroom, lost in thought. He hadn't seen Faye since she had angrily left with her dinner in hand to her room. Truth be told, he had been avoiding her ever since that morning in her room when he had told her she was beautiful. He didn't like the way he felt when he looked at her; the ache tugging in his chest, as well as groin, was disturbing. That paired with how much she could irritate and arouse him at the same time didn't help. He hadn't felt like that, exactly, about a woman. Not even with Julia. Sure, he had lusted after plenty of them, but Julia was the only woman he thought he could love. Lately he wasn't so sure. He hadn't thought about her much in past several months, even before Faye's attack. Even now, as he thought about their past relationship, it was with only a slight pang, not the heart-wrenching turmoil he had suffered for the past three years. Was he really over her? Do I even love her anymore, or just what she represented at the time? He was surprised that the answer was most definitely the latter. Faye was everything Julia was not. Julia had been delicate, sweet, and compliant, like a soft spring rain. Faye was all fire and passion, more akin to a lightening storm than anything else. No one would ever control her the way Vicious had controlled Julia.
He scratched his head in wonder, searching the face in the mirror. How can I possibly want that hissing wild cat over the sweet purr of a kitten like Julia? Spike thought, frowning. He had finally given up telling himself that wanting Faye was some sort of mercy act. But admitting it scorched him a bit. He had been nothing but rude and stand-offish to everyone, especially her. I really am a dick, he chastised himself. The conclusions he had drawn were not pleasant. He really needed that workout. He picked up a towel and exited the bathroom, heading for the bag that he imagined was Vicious' head.
Thack. Thump thump thump.
"What the hell…," Spike said to himself. Someone was already in the rec area, doing exactly what he had been planning from the sounds of fists and feet crashing in to leather. Who the heck can that be, he wondered, turning the corner. He blinked in the dim light.
There was Faye, in all her pissed off splendor. She had discarded the baggy sweats that had become her uniform. She was dressed in a black tank top and tight, black spandex pants. She wore no shoes or socks. Here black hair stuck straight out in two spiky pig tails that were bouncing with her every jab. He noticed that those weren't the only things bouncing. Her pale skin was flushed, and she was drenched in sweat. Her face contorted into an angry mask. There was a dangerous fire burning in those eyes.
She didn't notice him watching her. Faye was completely absorbed in her imaginary opponent; and from the looks of it she was kicking his ass. How many times have I lost myself like that? Spike wondered, a crooked smile teasing the corners of his mouth.
Faye danced around the bag, jabbing and dodging one second, then turning and kicking it squarely the next. She was no wuss, that was for sure. The bag was swinging wildly from the force of her attack, almost as much as it did when he was kicking it himself. I wonder who she's fighting, he marveled, admiration growing into grudging respect. With a bit of guidance she could be really good
"Take a wild stab, afro-boy," Faye said, breathing heavily. Spike hadn't realized he had spoken his last thoughts aloud.
With one last jump-kick, Faye sent the bag swinging towards him. Spike caught it without thinking, bringing her workout to a halt.
"So where'd you learn all that? I thought all your moves involved sex and a gun?" Spike asked, frowning, trying to hide the arousal he was sure was plainly scrawled on his face.
"Honestly, Spike, I have no idea," Faye breathed, stealing Spike's towel and wiping her streaming face. "And as for the sex and the gun, those are just for when I'm feeling lazy."
Faye threw the wet towel at him, then stretched her aching muscles. Spike's fingers dug into the leather he was still holding. She was built like a cat, all length and flexibility. She closed her eyes, crossing her arms behind her neck, elbows pointing up and out. Her chest was thrust forward as she arched her back. Spike swallowed the lump in his throat as he stared at her lithe figure. She was so beautiful. So dangerous. He wanted nothing more than to pick her up and take her right there on the mats. She seemed completely unaware of what she was doing to him. God, why couldn't she have stretched in her room? Finally, she was done.
"Ugh…I need a shower," she said, walking past him. Before he could think about it, Spike reached out and grabbed her arm.
"So who was it?" he asked her in a tight voice, pulling her closer to him.
"Who was what?" She was confused. Every time he looked at her like that, all his attention focused on her, it made her feel…hot, almost like it was too humid to breathe properly. She was frightened of him to a point, the thought of him touching her uncomfortable, yet oddly arousing at the same time. Get a hold of yourself, girl, Faye thought as she drowned in his eyes.
"Who were you fighting?" His voice was soft, but insistent. Was that desire she heard?
Faye broke away from his gaze, her heart racing. She looked up at him through dark lashes and whispered, "Probably the same guy you were planning on."
They both knew who. Vicious.
She hadn't realized how close he'd pulled her, but now she was suddenly very aware of his body next to hers: his bare torso, the sparse hair peeking just above the pants sliding down his hips. Half of her wanted to run screaming from any kind of sexual contact; but the other half wanted him, even if she was still afraid of intimacy. Spike wrapped both hands around her biceps, his breath hot on her neck as he leaned over her. He was caressing her arms, his hands moving slowly up and down. His left hand trailed fire to her back, stroking the bare skin just inside the edge of her tank top. She stood there like a statue, fighting between grabbing him and running away screaming.
He pressed her to him, her soft curves sliding down his hard muscles. His arousal was obvious against her belly as he pushed himself closer.
"Faye…," he pleaded, tilting her chin up so he could see her eyes. He wanted to see her desire for him in her face. Instead he saw fear.
"Spike, I…I…I can't," she murmured, tears burning her alabaster cheeks.
He released her, his arms hanging limply.
"I'm so, sorry," Faye wept, running in the direction of the bathroom.
Spike leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed. I'm definitely an asshole, he thought. What kind of man tries to jump a girl who was savagely raped by his ex-best friend only a month ago? A very self-centered, stupid one, he answered himself. He didn't even open his eyes as he kicked the bag brutally. He wasn't seeing white hair and cold blue eyes. Instead he was beating up the last man that hurt her- a man with wild, dark green hair and eyes that were mismatched brown.
***
Faye stood in the shower, desperately trying to wash the dirt that covered her soul down the drain. The sweat of her morning exertions had disappeared already in a swirl of suds and tears, but she still felt dirty. She had started feeling clean again, and he had to go and touch her. He couldn't help it, she said, thinking of the tight black outfit that was lying in a heap on the floor. I must have been asking for it. What had made her so frightened she was sick was her reaction to him touching her. She had wanted it, and he knew it. God, I sound like a scared little virgin, she thought with repugnance. Faye Valentine was no stranger to sex; heck, there was a time she even liked it. For the past couple of years she really hadn't had anything that great, but it hadn't frightened her. At least not until Vicious...She shook her head, trying to forget him. That hadn't been sex; that had been an invasion, a violent attack. She cleared her mind and thought of Spike. When was the last time her body had betrayed her like that? She couldn't think of a single incident. Why him? Why now? I can't afford to fall in love with that suicidal maniac! She knew she wouldn't be able to keep him away from Vicious forever, no matter what Ed had done to his ship. She laughed a little, remembering how Ed had played into her hands. She felt strangely guilty involving her-Ed was just a kid, after all-but it had been for the greater good, and it had given her and Ed something to share. I'm going soft for the little twerp. Somehow, she didn't seem to mind.
The cold water brought her back to the present. She shrieked, and jumped out. A whole lot of things may have changed around here, but this shower sure isn't one of them, she thought sourly, shivering. How many times had that happened since she had come here? She towel-dried her hair and then wrapped it around her. She looked down at the dirty pile of clothes. She didn't want to put them back on, but she still wasn't yet comfortable enough to run around in her towel. She scowled, picking up the black top. It smelled like her, but there was another scent. It was warm and musky, tinged with smoke, sweat and aftershave. It was Spike. And it wasn't unpleasant. She realized what she was doing and dropped the shirt like a snake. What was going on with her? Do I really like him that much? Could it be that she, a woman who wore a mask of contempt to protect herself from being hurt by others, was letting her guard down and falling for someone? The thought was disturbing, irrational, and oh, so true.
She finished drying herself off, trying to forget about her conflicting feelings for Spike. She wanted him, yet was afraid. I'm just not ready for physical stuff after…she let her thoughts stray from Vicious to Spike. His crooked grin, stupid hair, smart mouth…she knew he wouldn't hurt her on purpose. He was a jerk, not a monster. I'm just not ready. She sighed and gathered her clothes in her arms. She slowly opened the door, hoping that no one was around to see her half naked. It was only 8:30, after all. Spike wouldn't be done yet, and surely no one else was awake. She took a deep breath and made a mad dash toward her room.
Aaawwwwwwwww…wasn't that *sigh* romantic yet sad. I want to know what ya'll think!