White Picket Fence
~Keysuna
Summary: Buffy wanted a normal life, white picketed fence and 1.5 kids. But the Slayer inside her reacts to primal power. And lust is much more powerful then love.
Timeline: A/U season 6. Everything in Season 5 is the same except Riley stayed and Dawn jumped instead of Buffy. Spike still has a crush on the Slayer, but isn't very vocal about it. Riley and Buffy married, Giles left after Dawn died.
Pairings: B/S, B/R, T/W, X/A
He's making breakfast, and I watch by the bright morning light that filters through the shades. The bacon sizzles on the pan, sending it's aroma into the air and nearly drowning out the scent of his cologne. When the microwave beeps, alerting him that the food is done in it's own high pitched tone, the sound of him humming is silenced. Even if it is only for a moment. If I close my eyes tight, and bring the thick dark liquid in the cup toward my lips, I can fantasize that it's not him coming over to me. Not him setting a plate of food in front of me, or bringing a chair up to be near my presence. I open my eyes to meet his gaze, and smile, lowering the cup. He returns the gesture and I can see him prepare to move into kiss me. I turn toward the food and pick up a fork, beginning to play with it. I feel, rather then hear him slouch back into his chair. Who said hyper active Slayer senses can only be used for demon fighting?
"So you teaching tonight?" I ask nonchalantly, stabbing a piece of egg on my fork.
"Yeah." He watches me eat. "You OK with a solo patrol?"
I finish chewing. "Peachy."
There's a silence that I find uncomfortable, but he doesn't. He's never uncomfortable when he's with me.
"I'm hanging out with Willow today." I tell him as I finish a piece of bread.
He nods. "How's she doing?"
"Good, she and Tara are going to be gone next week, some Wiccan convention."
"There are Wiccan conventions?" He asks, a hint of amusement held in his voice.
I consider the fact, and smile. "News to me too." My eyes wander toward the plate, there's eggs piled on top of a French muffin and three untouched strips of bacon. It's over half of what he cooked for me, and yet I've lost my appetite. The stove clock burns the time in dull green letters; 11:49. "We're meeting up at the Magic Shop at noon, I should get going." I lie to him, and he grins, takes my plate in his grasp and stands. I watch as he dumps it in the sink and starts to clean.
"What time you going to be home tonight?" My words prompt him to glance at me while he tries to scrub away a stubborn piece of food. I remove myself from the seat, and grab a jacket from the hook, sliding it on as he considers my question.
"Nine-ish probably." He's succeeded in cleaning, and now has moved onto placing the dishes in the washer. "You?"
He's braced himself against the sink, watching me. I shrug. "Dunno, depends on how many of the evil undead decide to show."
His eyes have become clouded with thought, he usually doesn't think while he's around me, blood working it's way to other parts of his body. His senses are alive with it, every vein thrumming with the powerful blood coursing it's way through him. Mine doesn't move, doesn't jump at the side of him or acknowledge when his hands are moving across my body. My blood just sits there, unaware of him in me. I start toward the door, not wanting to face him.
"Bye." I say, trying to walk out of sight.
I hear an intake of breath as he starts to say something, and then changes his mind. "Love you Buffy."
The knob twists under my hand and I leave before he has a chance to say more. "Love isn't brains, it's blood." I whisper slowly under my breath, heading down the corridor and burst into the open air of day.
I'm not supposed to meet Willow for another two hours. The world sprawls out in front of me, and I can't seem to find the right place to go. My blood wants a fight, something to tear my mind away from the body that I sleep next to. But demons aren't one for the light and so I'll have to wait until darkness claims the land until I can let my anger inflict pain.
~ ~ ~
For some reason I'm at Spikes crypt. Or outside it I should say. Which makes no sense really because when I started walking it had been in no particular direction, and yet here I am. I chalk it up to years of cemetery patrol and push my way through the door. The dim light allows me to make out the shape of him laying on a beaten couch, intent on the words of a paperback. He looks up and meets my eyes, and I slowly let the door shut behind me. I jump at the loud clatter it makes as it closes and he chuckles.
"So what brings about the Slayer?" He asks in a long drawl. It's then that I notice that the words I had echoed earlier about love and blood had been no passage written by a immortal scribe, but the words of a drunken Spike.
My mind scrambles for something to say. "I was wondering if you knew why Angel hadn't come to my wedding." As the words came out I knew they were probably the worse things to have said.
"A little late there aren't we pet? Your wedding was at least six months ago." He moves to stand up, and I back away as the blanket falls to reveal a bare chest. Thankfully a pair of ancient jeans preserved his dignity, though it might just be mine. He gives me a look, and then proceeds to dig. "May I ask why your bringing up old nasties?"
I had been frantic when I didn't get an answer from Angel, and so sent Spike to see what was up. When he returned his words had been that my old lover was to busy to take a trip. "Just wondering." I replied, stepping farther into his home.
"Right then." He's thrown the book on the couch and looks straight at me. "What is it?"
"Nothing." I stammer and silently curse myself. "So, exactly how did Angel respond to you?"
He's looking at me like I'm crazy, and I can't blame him. "Poof seemed happy for you, getting hitched." He shrugs. "Bells a ringing and all, Peaches aint one for that."
I solemnly nod.
"Slayer?" He asks and I can't help but meet his eyes. "You OK?"
"Yeah." I take a shaky breath, and he notices it. "Peachy."
I hate it when he looks at me, and he still is. My finger itch to move toward the stake secured at my waistband, but I stop.
He's walking toward the refrigerator, removing with packet of thick liquid that I can smell from here. It's blood and he flashes to game face to bit into it. "He seemed a bit jealous if you ask me."
It took me a moment to realize he was talking about Angel. "Really?"
He nods and morphs back to his human guise. "Got all broody." His eyes showed thought. "Well more then the usual sense."
And again I nod for nothing lack of anything else. He doesn't notice as he's taking another drink of the dark red liquid.
I stay silent as he finishes, and then throws the packet on the ground. Without a second thought to me he starts down toward the lower level of his crypt. Just as I think he's about to leave me here alone he opens his mouth. "Is there something you wanted Slayer?"
"No, no. Nothing." The words come out fast and scrambled and I cant seem summon the strength to meet the harsh light of day outside.
I hear him sigh loudly, and stalk toward me. My body shivers with each movement and I look down toward the dirt which substitutes for a carpet. I feel his callused hands grip my shoulders, his ice blue eyes trying to meet mine.
"Luv, Buffy, are you all right?" I hate it when his voice is like this. So caring and knowing, not the blood sucking demon that he's supposed to be. The blood sucking demon that I *know* he is.
I allow my gaze to wander to his. I'm sure he hears my heart thunder in my chest. The better part of me tells me to shove him away and leave, but something else is whispering otherwise. I've never been good at trusting anyone, not even myself.
I'm Jekle and Hyde, but without one being evil, or at least, I don't like to think part of me is. My Slayer half isn't in tune with the world around me -- but with the fighting demons and other sorts that aren't even supposed to be in the world -- it's the better half to listen to. Buffy is the part that tells me right from wrong, that reminds when to brush my teeth and tie my shoes. Keeping one of me from the other of me is simple enough, they don't normally clash. Except for that the Slayer lusts for a demon where my human knows I should stay in my species.
"Slayer-" He starts again, but I just can't take it anymore. Just him close makes my blood rush and my head dizzy. The Slayer is taking over, and I don't have the energy to stop it.
My hands go for his neck and I wrap them around it, drawing him in closer to me. He's not protesting and he finishes the movement so that his lips are on mine. I'm relishing in the essence of him, the way his mouth seems to claim me, seems to break me and build me back up before I can realize it. Riley always waited for me to make the first move, but Spike, his tongue is down my throat before I can process the fact that we're kissing. It's almost bruising, this, this. . . thing that were doing. But it feels so much more real. Who knew that kissing a demon, a real demon, would be this intense? Angel suppressed his darkness like I try to do mine, but Spike embraces it with open arms and I have no doubt that he wouldn't mind if my demon joined his.
My Buffy half is surfacing again and the Slayer lets it breath without restraint. I know this is wrong, and as his tongue tries to do battle with mine, I break apart. His eyes look at me, but the human aspect that had leaked through earlier is now replaced with a smug look.
"Slayer." He mummers as though picking up from where I had cut him off before. "That was. . ." His hand goes to his lips as though trying to relive the moment.
My head is shaking, my body is shaking, I'm a mass of quivering nerves as his eyes watch me. "I- I have to go." I don't give myself time to take a few calming breaths before I'm out of his crypt and running through graveyard. And I bless the day that he can't follow me out.
~Keysuna
Summary: Buffy wanted a normal life, white picketed fence and 1.5 kids. But the Slayer inside her reacts to primal power. And lust is much more powerful then love.
Timeline: A/U season 6. Everything in Season 5 is the same except Riley stayed and Dawn jumped instead of Buffy. Spike still has a crush on the Slayer, but isn't very vocal about it. Riley and Buffy married, Giles left after Dawn died.
Pairings: B/S, B/R, T/W, X/A
He's making breakfast, and I watch by the bright morning light that filters through the shades. The bacon sizzles on the pan, sending it's aroma into the air and nearly drowning out the scent of his cologne. When the microwave beeps, alerting him that the food is done in it's own high pitched tone, the sound of him humming is silenced. Even if it is only for a moment. If I close my eyes tight, and bring the thick dark liquid in the cup toward my lips, I can fantasize that it's not him coming over to me. Not him setting a plate of food in front of me, or bringing a chair up to be near my presence. I open my eyes to meet his gaze, and smile, lowering the cup. He returns the gesture and I can see him prepare to move into kiss me. I turn toward the food and pick up a fork, beginning to play with it. I feel, rather then hear him slouch back into his chair. Who said hyper active Slayer senses can only be used for demon fighting?
"So you teaching tonight?" I ask nonchalantly, stabbing a piece of egg on my fork.
"Yeah." He watches me eat. "You OK with a solo patrol?"
I finish chewing. "Peachy."
There's a silence that I find uncomfortable, but he doesn't. He's never uncomfortable when he's with me.
"I'm hanging out with Willow today." I tell him as I finish a piece of bread.
He nods. "How's she doing?"
"Good, she and Tara are going to be gone next week, some Wiccan convention."
"There are Wiccan conventions?" He asks, a hint of amusement held in his voice.
I consider the fact, and smile. "News to me too." My eyes wander toward the plate, there's eggs piled on top of a French muffin and three untouched strips of bacon. It's over half of what he cooked for me, and yet I've lost my appetite. The stove clock burns the time in dull green letters; 11:49. "We're meeting up at the Magic Shop at noon, I should get going." I lie to him, and he grins, takes my plate in his grasp and stands. I watch as he dumps it in the sink and starts to clean.
"What time you going to be home tonight?" My words prompt him to glance at me while he tries to scrub away a stubborn piece of food. I remove myself from the seat, and grab a jacket from the hook, sliding it on as he considers my question.
"Nine-ish probably." He's succeeded in cleaning, and now has moved onto placing the dishes in the washer. "You?"
He's braced himself against the sink, watching me. I shrug. "Dunno, depends on how many of the evil undead decide to show."
His eyes have become clouded with thought, he usually doesn't think while he's around me, blood working it's way to other parts of his body. His senses are alive with it, every vein thrumming with the powerful blood coursing it's way through him. Mine doesn't move, doesn't jump at the side of him or acknowledge when his hands are moving across my body. My blood just sits there, unaware of him in me. I start toward the door, not wanting to face him.
"Bye." I say, trying to walk out of sight.
I hear an intake of breath as he starts to say something, and then changes his mind. "Love you Buffy."
The knob twists under my hand and I leave before he has a chance to say more. "Love isn't brains, it's blood." I whisper slowly under my breath, heading down the corridor and burst into the open air of day.
I'm not supposed to meet Willow for another two hours. The world sprawls out in front of me, and I can't seem to find the right place to go. My blood wants a fight, something to tear my mind away from the body that I sleep next to. But demons aren't one for the light and so I'll have to wait until darkness claims the land until I can let my anger inflict pain.
~ ~ ~
For some reason I'm at Spikes crypt. Or outside it I should say. Which makes no sense really because when I started walking it had been in no particular direction, and yet here I am. I chalk it up to years of cemetery patrol and push my way through the door. The dim light allows me to make out the shape of him laying on a beaten couch, intent on the words of a paperback. He looks up and meets my eyes, and I slowly let the door shut behind me. I jump at the loud clatter it makes as it closes and he chuckles.
"So what brings about the Slayer?" He asks in a long drawl. It's then that I notice that the words I had echoed earlier about love and blood had been no passage written by a immortal scribe, but the words of a drunken Spike.
My mind scrambles for something to say. "I was wondering if you knew why Angel hadn't come to my wedding." As the words came out I knew they were probably the worse things to have said.
"A little late there aren't we pet? Your wedding was at least six months ago." He moves to stand up, and I back away as the blanket falls to reveal a bare chest. Thankfully a pair of ancient jeans preserved his dignity, though it might just be mine. He gives me a look, and then proceeds to dig. "May I ask why your bringing up old nasties?"
I had been frantic when I didn't get an answer from Angel, and so sent Spike to see what was up. When he returned his words had been that my old lover was to busy to take a trip. "Just wondering." I replied, stepping farther into his home.
"Right then." He's thrown the book on the couch and looks straight at me. "What is it?"
"Nothing." I stammer and silently curse myself. "So, exactly how did Angel respond to you?"
He's looking at me like I'm crazy, and I can't blame him. "Poof seemed happy for you, getting hitched." He shrugs. "Bells a ringing and all, Peaches aint one for that."
I solemnly nod.
"Slayer?" He asks and I can't help but meet his eyes. "You OK?"
"Yeah." I take a shaky breath, and he notices it. "Peachy."
I hate it when he looks at me, and he still is. My finger itch to move toward the stake secured at my waistband, but I stop.
He's walking toward the refrigerator, removing with packet of thick liquid that I can smell from here. It's blood and he flashes to game face to bit into it. "He seemed a bit jealous if you ask me."
It took me a moment to realize he was talking about Angel. "Really?"
He nods and morphs back to his human guise. "Got all broody." His eyes showed thought. "Well more then the usual sense."
And again I nod for nothing lack of anything else. He doesn't notice as he's taking another drink of the dark red liquid.
I stay silent as he finishes, and then throws the packet on the ground. Without a second thought to me he starts down toward the lower level of his crypt. Just as I think he's about to leave me here alone he opens his mouth. "Is there something you wanted Slayer?"
"No, no. Nothing." The words come out fast and scrambled and I cant seem summon the strength to meet the harsh light of day outside.
I hear him sigh loudly, and stalk toward me. My body shivers with each movement and I look down toward the dirt which substitutes for a carpet. I feel his callused hands grip my shoulders, his ice blue eyes trying to meet mine.
"Luv, Buffy, are you all right?" I hate it when his voice is like this. So caring and knowing, not the blood sucking demon that he's supposed to be. The blood sucking demon that I *know* he is.
I allow my gaze to wander to his. I'm sure he hears my heart thunder in my chest. The better part of me tells me to shove him away and leave, but something else is whispering otherwise. I've never been good at trusting anyone, not even myself.
I'm Jekle and Hyde, but without one being evil, or at least, I don't like to think part of me is. My Slayer half isn't in tune with the world around me -- but with the fighting demons and other sorts that aren't even supposed to be in the world -- it's the better half to listen to. Buffy is the part that tells me right from wrong, that reminds when to brush my teeth and tie my shoes. Keeping one of me from the other of me is simple enough, they don't normally clash. Except for that the Slayer lusts for a demon where my human knows I should stay in my species.
"Slayer-" He starts again, but I just can't take it anymore. Just him close makes my blood rush and my head dizzy. The Slayer is taking over, and I don't have the energy to stop it.
My hands go for his neck and I wrap them around it, drawing him in closer to me. He's not protesting and he finishes the movement so that his lips are on mine. I'm relishing in the essence of him, the way his mouth seems to claim me, seems to break me and build me back up before I can realize it. Riley always waited for me to make the first move, but Spike, his tongue is down my throat before I can process the fact that we're kissing. It's almost bruising, this, this. . . thing that were doing. But it feels so much more real. Who knew that kissing a demon, a real demon, would be this intense? Angel suppressed his darkness like I try to do mine, but Spike embraces it with open arms and I have no doubt that he wouldn't mind if my demon joined his.
My Buffy half is surfacing again and the Slayer lets it breath without restraint. I know this is wrong, and as his tongue tries to do battle with mine, I break apart. His eyes look at me, but the human aspect that had leaked through earlier is now replaced with a smug look.
"Slayer." He mummers as though picking up from where I had cut him off before. "That was. . ." His hand goes to his lips as though trying to relive the moment.
My head is shaking, my body is shaking, I'm a mass of quivering nerves as his eyes watch me. "I- I have to go." I don't give myself time to take a few calming breaths before I'm out of his crypt and running through graveyard. And I bless the day that he can't follow me out.