author: Lucinda
rating: R
main characters: Spike, Buffy
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters or concepts from 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' which was created by Joss Whedon.
distribution: TNL, Paula, anyone else please ask first.
note: this is in response to Jinni's Weekly Poetry Challenge #4
Some say the world will end in fire;
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
-'Fire and Ice' by Robert Lee Frost
She'd haunted his dreams, invading, besieging his mind. The image of her hair swinging in the moonlight, her eyes, her white teeth... She was beautiful. He'd never tried to deny that much.
But she was his enemy, the sworn destroyer and death of his kind. Her whole purpose was to kill his kind. The only feelings that she should inspire in him were fear, respect, and the urge to kill. To see that graceful body bent, bloody and broken, those bight eyes staring blankly at the uncaring moon.
He tried so hard to hate her. It should have been easy, after all. She killed his minions, had corrupted his Sire to the point where the once mighty Angelus had become her sullen and brooding lapdog, obedient to her whims. She'd thwarted his plans, the damn girl had even dropped a burning building on him. He'd been crippled from that, nearly killed.
Maybe the building had done something to his brain when it fell on him. Maybe that was the explanation. It had to be, because these feelings... they weren't natural.
For weeks, he'd sat in that despicable chair, his body crippled, filled with twinging burning pain from her. He'd sat there, bitter and angry, images dancing through his mind of her defeated, bloody and broken at his feet. He would stand again, and then she would fall. He would destroy the Slayer, destroy Buffy.
In retrospect, he probably should never have learned her name. Easier to hate someone that's just a title, just a killer.
Gradually, the images dancing in his mind had changed. No longer did he envision her broken and dead at his feet, defeated in battle. Now, she was broken and bloodied in his bed, beaten and broken, submissive to his every whim and lust. He envisioned himself breaking her will, breaking her spirit. Taming her to his commands and pleasures. Of knowing every inch of that graceful body, with every carnal whim and image that crossed his mind.
Now, Spike didn't want to kill Buffy the Vampire Slayer, he wanted to fuck her. Not to share gentle kisses and touches that became fiercer, harder with need and impatience as he'd done with his precious, unfaithful Drusilla. Not the slow seduction that had lured many pretty maids to his bed and their death. No, what he dreamed of now was brutal, a battle for dominance and power.
Naturally, he always won those battles, in his imaginings.
He'd decided to come back to this despicable town, back for her. Back to try to take Buffy, to break Buffy and make her into his pet, his pawn... His diversion. Someone warm and bloody to play with.
For a brief, glorious time, it had even looked like it was going to work. He'd found the Gem, found a way to be invincible... almost. He'd lost the gem, and had tried to get it back. He should have just gone after her while she was busy gloating. Should have taken her then, dragged her off to have her then. He'd even had a good lair, hidden, secluded, well equipped with sturdy chains.
He'd reacted instead of following a plan. Bluntly, he'd allowed his anger to make him stupid. He'd lost the Gem, pissed of his Sire again, and still didn't have her.
It had only gotten worse from there.
Those miserable soldiers had taken him, sent him to the ground with what had felt like lightning, almost like fire all over again. When he'd awoken in their lair, the place of painfully bright lights, they'd already done it. Somehow, they'd taken his ability to hunt, to feed and kill and shatter fragile mortal flesh and bone. He hated them for it.
Half starved and desperate, he'd made a gamble. He'd gone right to the Watcher's place, gone right to Her. Offered to trade information for blood. For the chance to be near her, to try to work her under his thumb... and a few other parts.
So far, she seemed to hate him.
It wasn't quite ideal, and might make a few things harder for him, but as soon as he figured out how... as soon as he found a way around whatever they'd done to him... Buffy would be his.
All he had to do was wait.
end Cold Fire.
rating: R
main characters: Spike, Buffy
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters or concepts from 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' which was created by Joss Whedon.
distribution: TNL, Paula, anyone else please ask first.
note: this is in response to Jinni's Weekly Poetry Challenge #4
Some say the world will end in fire;
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
-'Fire and Ice' by Robert Lee Frost
She'd haunted his dreams, invading, besieging his mind. The image of her hair swinging in the moonlight, her eyes, her white teeth... She was beautiful. He'd never tried to deny that much.
But she was his enemy, the sworn destroyer and death of his kind. Her whole purpose was to kill his kind. The only feelings that she should inspire in him were fear, respect, and the urge to kill. To see that graceful body bent, bloody and broken, those bight eyes staring blankly at the uncaring moon.
He tried so hard to hate her. It should have been easy, after all. She killed his minions, had corrupted his Sire to the point where the once mighty Angelus had become her sullen and brooding lapdog, obedient to her whims. She'd thwarted his plans, the damn girl had even dropped a burning building on him. He'd been crippled from that, nearly killed.
Maybe the building had done something to his brain when it fell on him. Maybe that was the explanation. It had to be, because these feelings... they weren't natural.
For weeks, he'd sat in that despicable chair, his body crippled, filled with twinging burning pain from her. He'd sat there, bitter and angry, images dancing through his mind of her defeated, bloody and broken at his feet. He would stand again, and then she would fall. He would destroy the Slayer, destroy Buffy.
In retrospect, he probably should never have learned her name. Easier to hate someone that's just a title, just a killer.
Gradually, the images dancing in his mind had changed. No longer did he envision her broken and dead at his feet, defeated in battle. Now, she was broken and bloodied in his bed, beaten and broken, submissive to his every whim and lust. He envisioned himself breaking her will, breaking her spirit. Taming her to his commands and pleasures. Of knowing every inch of that graceful body, with every carnal whim and image that crossed his mind.
Now, Spike didn't want to kill Buffy the Vampire Slayer, he wanted to fuck her. Not to share gentle kisses and touches that became fiercer, harder with need and impatience as he'd done with his precious, unfaithful Drusilla. Not the slow seduction that had lured many pretty maids to his bed and their death. No, what he dreamed of now was brutal, a battle for dominance and power.
Naturally, he always won those battles, in his imaginings.
He'd decided to come back to this despicable town, back for her. Back to try to take Buffy, to break Buffy and make her into his pet, his pawn... His diversion. Someone warm and bloody to play with.
For a brief, glorious time, it had even looked like it was going to work. He'd found the Gem, found a way to be invincible... almost. He'd lost the gem, and had tried to get it back. He should have just gone after her while she was busy gloating. Should have taken her then, dragged her off to have her then. He'd even had a good lair, hidden, secluded, well equipped with sturdy chains.
He'd reacted instead of following a plan. Bluntly, he'd allowed his anger to make him stupid. He'd lost the Gem, pissed of his Sire again, and still didn't have her.
It had only gotten worse from there.
Those miserable soldiers had taken him, sent him to the ground with what had felt like lightning, almost like fire all over again. When he'd awoken in their lair, the place of painfully bright lights, they'd already done it. Somehow, they'd taken his ability to hunt, to feed and kill and shatter fragile mortal flesh and bone. He hated them for it.
Half starved and desperate, he'd made a gamble. He'd gone right to the Watcher's place, gone right to Her. Offered to trade information for blood. For the chance to be near her, to try to work her under his thumb... and a few other parts.
So far, she seemed to hate him.
It wasn't quite ideal, and might make a few things harder for him, but as soon as he figured out how... as soon as he found a way around whatever they'd done to him... Buffy would be his.
All he had to do was wait.
end Cold Fire.