Cravings

Chapter Two


It was a small, quiet and very sad funeral. Besides Buffy, Dawn and their friends there were some of Joyce's working acquaintances and her friends gathered around the grave.

All friends but one.

One sat watching sadly from afar.
Spike had parked his DeSoto as near as possible to the edge of the graveyard and glanced through the black-painted windscreen. The daylight kept him from attending the ceremony but he was damned if he didn't at least pay his last respects to Joyce.He would come by the grave and say his goodbye to her as soon as the sun would've set but for now he simply wanted to be there. He wanted to be there for Buffy and the Lil'Bit even if they couldn't see him.

Perhaps they would feel his support somehow.
Spike searched around for his smokes and put one between his lips. But he didn't light it. Even for an evil being like him it didn't seem right to smoke during a service. But the vampire felt nervous and on edge and the simple feeling of a fag between his lips calmed him down a bit.

Suddenly Spike saw the crowd starting to dissolve. It was over. One after the other left the grave until the Scoobies were the last to remain. Spike couldn't hear them talking but he saw Willow and Tara take a crying Dawn in their arms to lead her away.
Spike knew that Buffy would stay at the grave for who-knows-how-long and he was determined to join her as soon as the shadows of the trees would spend enough protection for him. He didn't know if she would welcome his…yeah, well…his what?
His support? Comfort?
Spike wasn't sure about what Buffy would allow him to give her, if his presence would be allowed at all. But after their last encounter where she had actually called him a friend (he couldn't stop wondering about that) he felt the odds to be in his favour. Spike lit his smoke and inhaled deeply. It was worth a go, wasn't it?

When the sun had finally set the blond vampire opened the door of his car and threw the butt to the ground. Then he climbed out but stopped dead in his tracks. Someone was suddenly approaching Buffy; someone disturbingly familiar.

"Peaches!" Spike growled and watched helplessly as his grandsire dared to silently take Buffy's hand in his.
"What the fuck…!" Spike was stunned beyond words.
He fell back onto the driver's seat and remained there watching the hated vampire comfort 'his' slayer.
When the first shock was over Spike started his car and left the graveyard, tyres smoking and squealing loudly.

He thought grimly about the two bottles of whiskey he had fortunately left untouched last night.
They would be needed badly.
Later.
First he needed a huge spot of violence.


Buffy waited till late afternoon the next day before she walked over to Spike's crypt. She had to talk to him, as much as she dreaded to meet him. But even before Joyce's burial Buffy had decided to corner the blond vampire to make sure he wouldn't brag about bagging his third slayer (in a different way than the other two – hopefully).

And now?
Buffy had been well aware of Spike's presence at the funeral and she knew that he had seen her with Angel. She had also noticed his furious departure at that.
She couldn't blame him for it, Spike and Angel had a history that…well…to put it mildly: they didn't like each other.

When Buffy had remained standing at her mother's grave she had expected the vampire to join her sooner or later.
The blond vampire, mind you! She hadn't thought about Angel being there at all.
But when it had been her souled ex-lover who had taken her hand, who had led her to sit under the tree to comfortingly talk to her…well, she hadn't mind either.
Buffy had simply been too exhausted, too sad and despaired to care. All she had wanted there and then had been an arm to hold her, a shoulder to cry on…someone to cling to.
And clinging to Angel had triggered something off. She had felt the need to be near him, to kiss him and who-knows-what-else…the same need she had felt with Spike the other night.

That thought had brought her brain back to work immediately.
What the hell was she doing?

Two nights ago she had been all over Spike, they had been making out and it had felt …well, yeah, it had felt wonderful (she was man enough – or slayer enough – to admit it). And now she was clinging to Angel like there was no tomorrow?

What was the matter with her? Why for god's sake was she so needy?

Angel and she had stopped kissing the very same moment…but for two entirely different reasons.
For Angel the kiss had affected him too much and the return of his feelings for Buffy had threatened to overwhelm him. Buffy on the other hand had noticed the lack of feelings that justified such a kiss.

Well, she still had feelings for Angel, but the romantic 'I-love-him-so-much-I-can't-live-without-him-and-there-will-never-be-someone-else-in-my-entire-life' touch was no longer there. She had known for a while now (otherwise she would've never dated Riley) but experiencing it again in one of her weakest moments…it was disturbing. Kind of sad.

But it was the truth nevertheless.
Sitting under the tree Buffy had once again became aware of the fact that she and Angel didn't belong in each other's worlds anymore.
Angel was her past.

So Buffy hadn't been too sad when he had left Sunnydale shortly before dawn. She had gone home and into her bed glad that he had been there but also glad that he was on his way again.
Before she'd fallen asleep Buffy had thought about what Angel had said earlier:

"You have people to help you. You don't have to do this alone," had been his words right before he had left.
Someone else had said nearly the same to comfort her the other night. Buffy could still hear Spike's words. 'Whatever you'll have to go through, you can be sure that you're always gonna have your friends!'

Two different vampires with one way to help her.

But Spike had said something else: "And you're always gonna have me, luv!"
And then he had silently sat beside her on the porch for the rest of the night.


These thoughts held Buffy's mind occupied while walking to Spike's crypt. She wasn't sure what to tell him but she had to talk to him nevertheless.
She needed to make sure he'd never tell anyone about their kiss the other night. Although it had felt alright (well, who was she kidding? It had felt more than alright, it had felt wonderful) Buffy knew it wasn't.

Kissing Spike was not okay! No matter how weak and alone and sad she felt and no matter how nice and gentle he'd be…she was the Slayer and he was an evil vampire.
"And that equals bad, written in capitals! BAD!" Buffy murmured under her breath and stopped in front of the familiar crypt. Should she knock? Or barge right in?

She decided to throw her fist against the wooden door once to announce her presence and then she walked inside right away.
One glance around the upper level told Buffy that Spike was not there. His beloved green armchair was empty and the TV was off.
Buffy frowned and stepped further into the crypt. She wondered if he could have gone out already. It was early and the sun was still up outside but Spike could have used the sewers to get pretty much wherever he wanted in town.

'Or', she thought suddenly, 'he could be down the lower level.'

Buffy had been down there only once and that day was none of her favourite memories. Spike had chained her up to show her…
She forced her thoughts away from that dreadful event she wished had never happened and started to descend the small ladder that led downstairs.
Although her slayer-sight normally allowed Buffy to see pretty well in the dark she could spot absolutely nothing but darkness at the end of the steps.
Therefore Buffy yelped in shock when she tripped over something on the ground next to where the ladder ended. She stumbled and fell on her knees.
"Ouch!" Buffy groaned but went quiet again soon. She had heard another groan matching hers coming from further inside the dark crypt.

"Spike?" Buffy inquired anxiously, "Spike, are you there?"

Nothing.

But Buffy was sure she had heard him earlier. She got up from the ground and when her eyes had adjusted to the darkness she looked around. At the very far end of the room one small candle burned on a low and shabby looking table. In the frail light Buffy was able to make out the end of an old large bed. But other than that she could see nothing; the light didn't reach anything else around.
'This one's new!' Buffy thought and stepped cautiously forward towards the bed.

Suddenly a low growl rang out.
"Spike?" Buffy asked worriedly and quickly ran over to the bed. The sound had come from behind the large bedstead.

When Buffy reached it she was able to look at the ground behind. All she could do was clap a hand over her mouth at the horrible sight and let out a strangled gasp:

"Oh god, Spike!"


TBC

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