Title: THE THINGS YOU'VE DONE

Author: LJ USER"charmingsyrai"

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Series: Envenom

Timeline: post Chosen

after TIME TO BE WHAT YOU NEED ME TO BE

Characters: original characters

Prompt: #087 Phoenix

Summary: How the fuck did she always end up into that rotting house with his naked form sleeping so damn blissfully next to her bare one? The fuck she knew.

A/N: Figured it's time to introduce other characters of the story and well, here we go. Meet Cloey and Rufus aka Phoenix (that's not the only reason why I chose this prompt for this one, though). It's annoying... I keep seeing Balthazar Getty as Rufus... I think it's because of the eyebrow :pouts: Three was supposed to be a third scene in this little thing, too, but I couldn't write it under this prompt - it felt wrong, so I decided that this thing is just an introduction and that's that.

THE THINGS YOU'VE DONE

How the fuck did she always end up into that rotting house with his naked form sleeping so damn blissfully next to her bare one? The fuck she knew.

The bed had become almost too familiar to her through all this time, just like the whole house - she knew every dark corner and forgotten room the house held, each and every drawer and cupboard and what were hidden inside them. She had always had a very curious nature and he had often walked into the room only to find her going through his stuff time after another. He never said anything about it, didn't ask her to stop or tell her she had no fucking rights, not anymore, and so she always kept going through whatever drawer she had pulled open and continued the search. Usually he just sat down with a drink in his hands and waited; watched her, observed her movements with this weird fascination she had never learnt to understand.

Sometimes, even after weeks gone by without seeing or visiting him at all, she could still smell her own scent all over his house the minute she stepped over the threshold. She wondered if he ever invited anyone else there - didn't he fuck anyone but her? Or maybe he still didn't feel comfortable enough bringing those damned bitches into a house that had once been theirs - maybe he went to those the safe houses like all the others did nowadays. Even she, sometimes, when she wanted something new and different. Still, it was strange how the simple thought of him fucking one of those whores made her skin crawl. She hissed at the thought, sounding very much like a snake.

He mumbled something, but didn't wake up, which she noted gratefully. It would've been awkward to try and explain him why she had suddenly felt such waves of jealousy that they could've easily drowned her – if he had woken up, he would've felt them too. Damn link. Always making her life a little bit more complicated than needed... If he had been his sire, she would've understood – but he wasn't. So, what was with the fucking link?

She had always hated it; how vulnerable it made her.

Christ, how long had it been since she had left him without any kind explanations and moved out of the house; this house? About 30 something fucking years, she counted in her mind. A damned long time for one to live in the past...

Yeah, he was pretty pathetic, alright, but she wasn't that much better either. She did admit it, but only to herself, never aloud.

No one besides Gina knew about their shared history - perhaps not even Rhys. Well, hopefully he didn't; it had been a secret well guarded and the fact they had both happened to join the Triad was nothing but a ... a coincidence?

Or act of fate?

Which one did she want it to be? Well, who the fuck cared? It changed nothing. She had already moved on, but the day Rhys had told her she'd be working with another brilliant hunter her life had changed again. He had walked into the room filling it with his presence like always, leaving no room for air or anything else, and right there and then the ghosts of the past had caught up with her. She had acted like a true professional through it all; the tears had filled her eyes only after she had closed her bedroom's door, locked herself into the small bathroom and turned the shower on.

She had never apologized for what she had done to him long time ago and he had never asked her to, either.

Her eyes dropped from the ceiling and ever so slowly, to keep him in his sleep, she pulled the sheets to cover her breasts turning to look at him. Even then, looking so torn and exhausted after what she had done to him once again, he looked so beautiful, almost breathtaking. There was an old scar splitting his eyebrow in half - he always whined about it out of habit, but she had always thought it only made him sexy as hell. She didn't remember when he had gotten it, but she knew it had been she to plant it upon him. It made her smile... Knowing she had marked him. Knowing; remembering it sure as hell wasn't the only mark she had left on him during the years.

Maybe it was wrong of her to take such pleasure out of that, but she did.

After all this time... he was still hers.

A small, pleased chuckle rolled out of her tongue. He was always so careful not to hurt her in any visible way, yet she did everything she could to make him bleed and cry out of pain and he always let her. She hadn't asked why, not before, not now. Maybe he knew something she didn't.

She could still smell the half dried blood on his body. He was bleeding again, or at least had been earlier, but she couldn't quite tell why or from where, just that it was there tickling her senses. Yeah, well, she had been rougher than usually and hadn't really stopped to admire her work. Too bad.

She hadn't meant to come here, knock on his door with tears bursting out of her eyes... or to rip his clothes off like an animal in heat - which was exactly what she had done the second he had looked at her with worry in his eyes and invited her in, asking if she wanted something to drink... he hadn't seen it coming, but yet he had known to expect it. He had learnt, she supposed. The years gone by had taught him that much already.

She hadn't come for sex, dammit. Then why? For the old time's sake, maybe?

She had come here to talk with him. Only to talk, to cry against his shoulder, to hear him say it wasn't that bad and that everything was gonna be okay cause she was the strongest person he had ever met and cause she was just so fucking cool. Hearing it always made her laugh. Life seemed a little bit less complicated while laughing.

That had to be it. When life kicked her in the head and drained all the fluid out of her veins, there was only one place where she would go to gather her strength. She couldn't do it at home, not with her baby girl being there and depending on her. She was the mother, she had to be the strong one out of the two. Not that Gina didn't know how to take care of herself, she thought feeling pure, pleasurable pride... the kid had been taking care of herself for 16 years now, ever since her real parents had been killed in front of her eyes.

She didn't want Gina to see her like that, crying, broken... desperately in need of some one to cling on and hold her when she was near the edge of a fucking breakdown. The kid had been through enough without having to take care of the one person who was supposed to be her solid rock.

So, there was only one other place besides home where she felt good, comfortable, warm... loved, even. Never had truly understood why he kept offering his comfort to her, but she was grateful anyway. Hated herself for playing with his head, hated him for letting her, but still, so very fucking grateful that it scorched her insides making it feel as if there was nothing but poisonous juice running through her body.

Guilt.

She didn't like feeling guilty.

Vampires weren't fucking supposed to feel guilty! They were above that.

That was what he had said to her, the one who had turned her all those years ago - what was it, 60 years ago? Gods, it felt like it had happened yesterday. She could see the scene in front of her eyes so clear, so vivid - all the smells of that day still lingered in her nose stronger than ever... No guilt, he had said, whoever he was - she still hadn't found out, you'll finally be free from the things you've done.

That was the only goddamn reason she had let him do it, for fuck's sake and the bastard had been lying! The only reason she had exposed her neck, biting back tears the pain caused and let herself die. Waking up in an abandoned storage two days later with fucking rats squeaking everywhere, covered in blood and dirt, smelling so horrible she had bent down and thrown up for good 10 minutes... yeah, for sure, it really wasn't what one could call an ideal way to start a new day. Just thinking about it brought the acid taste back to her throat – she had to swallow it down, gulping.

She saw the irony of it all, of course. Never trust strangers, no matter how fucking hot they are.

At least she had learnt something, you know. Not all of it had been waste of time - you can't escape the things you've done and you can't pretend you haven't always been the rotten piece of shit you are. Even when you were human.

Gods, stop thinking about it, let go already.

What she really should've been thinking about was all the good, better things that it had brought into her life. If she hadn't been turned, she wouldn't have been there 6 years ago to save Gina from the fuckers that had attacked her family, ripped them apart to satisfy their hunger. Those fucking monsters... To Rhys and most of the Triad's members the war between the races had always been about humans and vampires, but she couldn't care less about those fucking creatures. Humans were at the bottom when it came to the food chain, they just hadn't accepted it yet.

No, it wasn't about humans. Ever since that day, she had killed every damn werewolf she had encountered. Murdered; suffocated, burnt, sliced – whatever hurt, she tried on them, always coming up with new and better – that meant slower and more painful, obviously - methods to kill them. The Triad didn't seem to appreciate her little hobby, of course, but she didn't give a fuck – not when it came to Gina. Those flesh-eating bastards were truly evil and deserved what they got. The Triad never interfered and she was glad. If they had made her choose... she wouldn't have chosen them. Not that she'd ever admit it to anyone, but Gina.

She sat up now, ignoring the sleeping man as if he held no meaning to her anymore.

The truth was... the fucker might have lied to her, but in a way, he had saved her too. Given her life a meaning. Wasn't that what everyone wanted? Wasn't that why humans had their false beliefs and ridiculous religions? Wasn't that why they had invented God?

Landing her toes on the cold floor beside the bed, she rose to her feet. Abandoning the warmth of the bed, she slowly walked towards the bedroom's only window to see what was going on outside, picking up his shirt along the way. She put it on, not bothering to button it up. Didn't really matter to her even if someone had seen her through the window – it was a rare occasion someone that actually mattered would walk around this area of the town. The shirt smelled like him; she draw in a breath, stretching her arms and letting a satisfied smile decorate her face as she sat down on the in-built windowsill. Most of her own clothes had vanished somewhere between the front door and the stairs last night, but his red collar shirt had been pretty fucking persistent and very unwilling to leave its master's skin. Hell, with his body, you really couldn't blame the piece of clothing, now could you?

Bending her head backwards and leaning against the wall behind her, she closed her eyes trying to relive the previous night in her head.

Yep. The smile twisted her lips into a wolfish grin.

Life was good right now.

0000

He had been awake for quite some time already, but the female vampire had still not sensed his eyes on her half naked body – it didn't surprise him one bit, though. She hadn't buttoned the shirt -his, he noticed, with a pleasure that waved south no matter how he tried to control it- at all and so, sitting there with one feet on the ground and the other bent against her beautifully shaped breasts, she looked like the most beautiful sculpture ever made.

She had always been beautiful in his eyes, he couldn't say otherwise, but during these mornings, she looked so much more than beautiful. Perfect. Just absolutely perfect, like a goddess sent from heaven… or, er, something.

Damn, that was so gay.

He knew she liked her ginger hair short and tidy, but yet it was long; free and wild, almost bushy in a way... and he knew why. Because he liked it that way... and she remembered. If he had asked, she would've laughed no doubt, but it was comforting thought nevertheless, be it the truth or not.

He smiled, almost chuckling aloud, but she was still completely unaware of him.

There was another possibility too, though, but he didn't really like thinking about it. Maybe it wasn't about her wanting to please him… maybe it was only about her knowing and using every method there was to lure him into her little webs.

He couldn't be sure and fearing the answer wouldn't be the kind he wanted to hear, he didn't ask anything. Never had.

Without saying anything, he stared, half-wanting her to acknowledge him; feel him watching her. The mystery link between them had always been strong; she could very easily tell what emotions exactly were keeping his mind occupied, but he could rarely pinpoint hers. Normally she would already have noticed him, but when she got like that... she was galaxies away and not even his presence could fly her back.

It was so like her to space out like that, get lost within her own messy mind and forget everything around her. It annoyed him, always had. Sure, at the time she was safe and sound in his bed, but he wasn't stupid... He couldn't keep her there forever. He wanted to, yeah, but couldn't. Sometimes, even in the middle of a fierce battle, she would do the same; grow completely oblivious to the surrounding situation, only to be woken up by an attack of some kind. He never mentioned it to anyone else but her and their team mates usually put her accidents on the enemy's shoulders, but he knew the truth. Fuck, if Rhys had found out, she would've been off the field ages ago. Maybe he should've done it then, rat her out like a little kid and make Rhys do what he couldn't; put an end to her hunting hobbies. She was becoming a liability, but more than that, he was worried...

You should get over her, you know?

He was always worried when it came to her. Not because she could've got them all killed, but because she could've got herself killed. There was nothing he feared, nothing but losing her.

You're such a pussy, Rufus. Pathetic.

Why the fuck did he always let her in? Why the hell did he open the door even when he could tell it was her? No one else appeared like that, knocked the way she did. Desperate and in haste. He always told himself she'd be ignored the next time, but she never was. Even if his mind told him to sit back down and pretend she wasn't there, his body seemed to respond to her in a way his mind couldn't prevent. It still didn't answer his question, though. Why did he let her use him like that, again and again? She hurt, made him bleed. Beg. Cry. Used his mind and body whenever she felt fit. Used and twisted, fucked things up.

Perhaps the real question wasn't why, but why not. She gave him pleasure, no matter what she did. Didn't matter whether it was her teeth or her tongue on him, everywhere, all hot and silky, it always felt so damn good. His body felt the pain, but his mind turned it into guilty pleasure, into lust... heat.

Or was that the male in his blood trying to justify his actions, make him sound cool and indifferent? Less whipped?

Probably.

Whatever. He wasn't a blind, deaf, old man who couldn't get it up anymore, for fuck's sake. And he had his needs, just like she seemed to have hers. That was all there was to it, period. So maybe she was the only one who could fuck his head up so completely – who cared about that when she was also the best lay he had ever had?

… that and the only one who could make him feel so perfectly happy, even if just for a short moment.

That was his excuse. What made it right. Acceptable.

The blood had already dried on his skin, but the wound on his side was still sore and hurt whenever he moved a muscle. Why hadn't it heeled yet? When was the last time he had fed? He wasn't sure, never was when she was there. Yesterday... or the day before? If it hadn't known it would hurt, he would've massaged his temples to try and sooth the chaos inside his head.

Jesus Christ that woman.

Like I said. Fucking pathetic.

He was about to say something both to catch her attention and to keep his own mind from insulting him all the time, but before he could speak, a noise was heard. Two of them, actually, but both in annoying unison that never promised anything good to come.

"Aww, fuck," he grunted drawing a pillow to cover his head... he knew all too well what that particular sound promised, especially when it came from two different sources like that.

"Where the fuck's my pager?" She asked coming to. Standing up she calmly scanned through the floor to find the noisemaker. When she couldn't locate her own pager right away, and since Rufus seemed to be his usual grumpy morning-self, she sighed and walked to the bed. He could feel the mattress move and shriek underneath them, when she landed down on the bed on all-four. Crawling to him, ignoring the whimper her knee on his back erupted, she reached over him and grabbed his pager from the nightstand. She checked the ID out of old habit although she automatically knew who would need them both at this hour. Finally the loud noise died leaving only a distant echo after it – ah, her own pager was somewhere near the stairs then. She could still hear it, but at least the beeping wasn't annoyingly loud anymore.

"Rhys," she declared putting the pager back on the nightstand and falling back to sit on her knees, hands resting on her lap, fingers playing with the helm of the shirt she had on. He grunted again, this time from the pleasure of being released from the painful position, but the pillow didn't move anywhere. She poked him with an index finger to get an reaction of some kind, but he neither said or moved.

"You hear me? It's Rhys," she repeated with a frown, "We gotta go... I'll go in first. Gimme 15 minutes, ok?"

Now the pillow was finally removed. With a rather violent move, too; he pushed it aside and by using his elbows to support his weight, he lifted his upper body from the mattress just enough to be able to glare at her over his shoulder. The glare was harsh and managed to hid the pain moving had caused. God, she had really pushed him around pretty hard this time.

As usually, somewhat unwanted sensation of anger bolted through her body in a rush and she knew exactly what had caused it. Every time the same fucking thing!

"Cloey... " he drawled a warning, highly annoyed, "Stop." He didn't want to hear it, not again. He could deal with her coming to him night after night and humiliating him the way she did, but these aftermath mornings he hated. If he had to choose, he'd rather been stabbed with a wooden stake through a leg or something if it could any way prevent this… It was absolutely wonderful to wake up with her sleeping beside him, have breakfast with her and kiss her goodbye when she finally found her way out through the door after many lame excuses why she couldn't stay any longer. What he hated were the mornings when he would wake up alone after she had cowardly ran away from him the first chance she got… or when their pagers would go off at the same time. Fuck, he hated it. That happened rarely, but whenever it did, it always ended the same way.

When are you gonna grow up and be a man, Rufus?

Fuck. It was probably what his friends would have asked too, you know, after laughing at him for days and days without taking a single break. Pissing their fucking pants while at it. Damned idiots, what did they know about anything anyway?

She shrugged, biting her bottom lip trying to find a way to say what she had to say, but without having to hurt his feelings any more than she had to. Plus, if she could go without having to deal with his anger and frustration, that would've been brilliant. She could already sense it, dammit, and she didn't feel like hearing the words, too.

"I know you dun like it..." she started with apologizing tone, not sure if she should get up, get dressed and get the fuck away or try and settle... lean forward and nibble his earlobe, "But we can't go there together. I dun... I dun..." Instead of doing anything, she did nothing. Maybe using her female ways on him after last night would be a bit unfair of her and even though she could be a bitch, she wasn't totally heartless. Plus, Cloey had her dignity, at least some of it, and stooping that low would undoubtedly erase the little she had.

"Want them to know, yes," he finished it for her, "I've gathered that much." Not wanting her to see the boiling look in his eyes, he turned to check the alarm clock, which stood peacefully on his nightstand next to the damned thing that had ruined his morning. Fucking pager. One of these days it would meet the cold, dark bottom of Atlantic Ocean simply for existing. For being so damned loud. And small. And annoying. And whatever other reason his heated mind could come up with. Not like the reason really mattered, anyway. The asshole would fly and drown.

"If they knew..." Cloey started and again, she was interrupted by his cold voice.

"Nothing would change," he said firmly. After this, it was impossible for him to fall asleep again and so, he stood up throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. Massaging his neck and trying to ignore the pain every move jolted, he draw in a deep breath. Besides, it was obvious he had a new job waiting for him so it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter. Normally that would've been a good thing, it would've given him something to do and something else to think about, but he supposed this wasn't one of those times. Her pager told more than enough… yeah, it was hard to think about something else, when the one thing he didn't want to think about was working right there by his side.

Maybe Rhys really should find out, he pondered, it would at least be a hell lot of easier for him to get away from jobs that included her. Then again, as stupid as it was and as much as he hated it, he had to admit that during the time she had been working somewhere outside the borders of Neopolis, he had been fucking miserable. Not because he hadn't seen her or fucked her, but because he couldn't stop fearing she'd somehow get herself killed. At least when she was near and they were working together, he could constantly keep an eye on her. Boy, if she'd known that, he would've been kicked into the groin few times in a row.

Better not tell her then, 'ay?

"They would change," she whispered finally, almost as if she had been able to read his thoughts and had been just waiting for his mind to go silent again. She sounded so vulnerable saying it that he almost turned around and scooped her into his arms. Just almost, though. If he had turned out, he would've seen how the unbuttoned shirt revealed her milky white breasts and well, one thing would lead to another and she'd win as usual. Cloey knew how to use her voice and body to her advantage and for his misfortunate, he had realized it years later than he would have liked to. Refusing to recognize the weak feeling floating from her as genuine vulnerability, he twisted his head from one side to another to wake his body, trying to focus on something else but her for a minute.

"I refuse to be the target of their snickering and a subject of your little manly chats."

"Cloey-" He had been about to tell her she had got it all wrong, that the reason he wanted to tell the others about their, well, whatever it was, was because he hated sneaking around. Sneaking around, hiding in the shadows was what horny teenagers did or some filthy whores and their customers. He was a grown vampire for crying out loud and so was she! So fucking what if they ended up into same bed every once in a while? So what if they had known? It wasn't like sex was a taboo in the vampire world. Cloey wasn't stupid, she had to know they wouldn't give a shit about something like that - if something, they'd probably admire her for being able to keep her personal space - but before he could ask her to get a grip and stop lying to his face, he was promptly interrupted.

"-Who I fuck isn't their business!" She spat out so fiercely it startled him, "They dun need to know."

Okay… Jesus, how could she switch from end to the other that fast? Now her voice was full of anger, eyes throwing fire bolts at his direction. He didn't see it, but felt each and every electric bolt crashing his skin, burning.

"Fine," he breathed, beaten but still managing to sound indifferent. For whatever reason, he didn't feel so eager to continue this particular conversation anymore. It was making her upset and he didn't like it - partly because he could sense it radiating from her, doubling his own uneasiness and partly, because… he wasn't sure and he didn't want to analyze it. The results would probably be anything but flattering anyway.

She was lying, he knew it for sure, but he couldn't do anything about it by yelling and fighting. She had her reasons; he didn't understand them, because she had never bothered to enlighten him, but he was prepared to dig it out of her with any means necessary. Just not right now.

"Do whatever the hell you want," he barked and stood up while fetching his denim jeans from the floor. Absentmindedly he noticed it wasn't the same pair he had wore yesterday, but didn't bother to try and think how long they had been lying there on the floor next to a sweaty shirt or if they already smelled of dirt and dust. Days or months, who cared? The new gig would get them dirty eventually, no doubt about that one. Unless it was an easy one that included only locating and pulling the trigger, which was always nice and neat…. but knowing Rhys had decided to take Cloey in too, it didn't seem likely. Cloey and easy jobs never went hand in hand.

When he turned around with the jeans still in his hands, she still hadn't moved or said anything. Her gaze was fixed on her hands and for the first time in months, she actually didn't know how to go forward. He tried to focus his own eyes on the top of her head instead of her front. Getting a hard on while trying to prove his point, would be a perfect end to already humiliating night.

"I need a shower anyway," he said starting to walk towards the bathroom's door. He didn't sound angry anymore, just playful and that got her attention right away, "I may regenerate faster than the lot of you," he continued with a tender chuckle following the words, "but you were a handful yesterday, so."

Her surprised gaze rose to meet his eyes and she managed to squeeze a relieved smile when she noticed he truly had calmed down that quickly; she had expected a storm of the worst kind and was glad he had spared her.

"Sorry." She wasn't sure what she was apologizing for; the little argument that could've easily grown into full-fledged fight or the fact he had been hurt… again. The word had come out so automatically that she couldn't tell.

But he could.

"Sweetheart," he smirked, "only say it when you mean it."

Although, in that case, you'd never say it, would you?

She only watched how the beautiful, strong and slightly bruised behind disappeared into the bathroom and wondered in amusement when the hell she'd learn her lesson.

Or, she chuckled getting up from the bed while listening to him curse harshly as the cold water hit his sore spots, he, for that matter.

Probably never.

-fin.