Title: Mine
Description:It's never really enough, to love. She knows it, and she knows what she needs more than
anything else.
A/N: One shot fic, you get it.
Distribution: Twilight and Bloody Marys. If you want it, email me at my posted email with
where it's going, etc etc and I'll almost always give permission.
Disclaimer: The plot, charcters and all areas of Buffy the Vampire Slayer are the sole property of Joss
Whedon, Mutant Enemy, et al. I have no claim over any aspect of Buffy etc etc whatsoever, and
am only doing this for my own entertainment. However, if Joss would like to lend me Spike, I'd be
glad to take him...hides fuzzy pink handcuffs behind her back muahah.
It's never really enough, to love. She knows it,and she knows what she needs more than anything else. She wants, needs to be loved in return. And as she knows it, she knows it won't really happen to her. That's why she went to the convenience tonight, that's why she exchanged petty conversation with the man at the register, the man she would have tried so well to avoid a few weeks ago, if she could. That's why she took the money from the bedside table, and went to the store in the first place. That's why she sits here now, on her bed, a glass of water in her hand. That's why she smiles slightly at the sight of an empty bottle sitting so innocently on the bedside table. The bottle that reads "Sleep-eze" or "Night Times" or some other bullshit name for a pill of the sort.
That's why she turns the music up, why she sobs uncontrollably into her pillows so suddenly, why she answers "Come in" to the knock on the door without a second thought. But now he's in here, now he's making all those promises she knows he can keep, seal them with a kiss to her jugular and blood. Her blood. And how suddenly it is, it's her blood, it's running and flowing out of her, into him, and she knows it's no good, she knows there's no way to stop him, not that she really tried in the first place. And her mind drifts, as minds often do when all hope is lost. She drifts to touch, to feel what he's doing to her, and she finds for a moment she can't really feel the pain anymore, just him. She feels him, his arms, holding her so intimately in a mockery of the hero in one of those cheap romance novels, holding the heroine after she faints, and what a mockery it is, although probably unintentional, as these things usually are. She feels still, she feels his lips moving so softly against her skin, feels his tongue, so determined to take as much of her life force as possible.
But she's stopped feeling, as most humans do, and she can barely breathe, barely make a word, but she feels she must, to thank him. And so she does, with a feeble attempt to say more, although that's all she knew she would be able to get out. And then…he stops. The touch is gone, though she hasn't noticed. He moves off the bed, probably going for the bedside table, where this all started, she sees him from the corner of her eye as he picks up the empty bottle. And she thinks idly that he's going to take his leave, and leave her body for the slayer.
But then she hears his words, however fuzzy they sound. She hears him telling her he knows, telling her he'll make it better. She thinks she sees a bloody tear down his cheek, though it might just be her blood. Her….blood. Why her blood? But suddenly it's his blood, it's his and it's running down her throat, he tells her to swallow, and she tries, and she does, but she doesn't know for what's left of the life of her why she does. She vaguely remembers Buffy telling her what happens when a vampire does this, though she can't comprehend what's going to happen. And he's holding her again, and she feels this time, and he's rocking her again, whispering words like "okay" and "beautiful" and other such sweet nothings.
And as she blacks out, she hears him once more. Not the music, or the people moving noisily and oblivious just outside the door. Just him, as he says, "Don't worry Red. You're mine now."