Songs of Lament

AN: I don’t really know what I was feeling when I wrote this. Many things, like depression I know, a lot of people refer to Dark Reflection as my one hit wonder so now I’m here to prove them wrong. Thanks to my beta Spikez_tart, she’s awesome.

I cry…

I can’t help it, tears began to stream down my cheeks, and a sob catches in my throat. I have never felt so dead in my a hundred and twenty years of unlife; I’ve never felt so dead, so robbed of existence. I cry, because I’m living in an echo, a poor imitation of life with the Slayer, and it’s no longer enough.

I once asked her for crumbs, now I want the whole bloody cake.

She doesn’t love me, I know it. I’d be a fool to think she did. But she loves what I can do to her, that is my power. That is the reason she comes back to me, the reason she returns to my dark, desolate crypt. She rides my dick with no abandon, no care for what pleasure I receive, as long as she is pleased, I don’t matter.

Her nudity is my heaven, her quim is my hell.

Her beautiful body is glorious, the rapture I receive is so spectacular, I can only compare it to spiritual. Her golden hair waving about, her jade eyes void of life, void of the spark. Her sensuous lips mash against mines, sliding her tongue past my lips to tango with me. Our tongues clash and she moans in my mouth. Her small hands are strong, gripping my shoulders cruelly, her nails digging in, blood trickling out, desperate for release.

But this is not love.

This, according the righteous bitch is wrong.

I have no soul, so I’m dirty and evil. She gives me no chance at redemption, no chance to be good.

I want to be good.

Sometimes. But she wants me to be bad, because that’s the only time she’s really alive is when I’m bad.

If I’m good she hits me. She tells me to go faster, harder, my cock slides into her, slicked with her juices. I’m hopeless, a fool for love, and we’re addicted to each other.

She’s addicted to the pain; I’m addicted to her body. She’s like a stripper, except instead of me spending money, I’m spending tears. Because she refuses to love me, and it hurts, it hurts so bad that her rejection makes me want to walk in the daylight for the last time. I want it to stop, I want her to love me for who I am, I try to tell her, but she just kisses me to shut me up.

She knows…

She offers me the creamy column of her neck, and I want nothing more than to sink my fangs in her, my frenzied thrusts evidence of my desire for her. I’m inside her all the way to the hilt, my pubic bone slams against her clit, and she mewls underneath me. She bites my nipples and draws blood, tantalizingly sliding her tongue across the wound, and I can’t take it anymore.

I lower my head down to her neck, still pounding away at her wanton quim, her muscles constricting, squeezing my dick until it threatened to burst. I let out a ragged moan, my demonic features sliding over my face, and I hover over her neck, hesitating.

I want to, but I mustn’t.

She arches her hips with a violent force, her hot core draining me slowly, undead seed filling her up.

I decide to torture her…

I slowly pull my cock out of her, and she pants hard, her eyes begging me to finish. I hover over her, rubbing the head of my cock slowly across her wet folds, making her gasp my name.

I reach down with one hand and applied pressure to her clit and she screams. She begs for me to fuck her but I don’t.

“We have to talk, pet.” I lowered my head down and licked her nipple, still rubbing away at her clit. My sheets are soaked in her juices, the scent of her arousal only serving to make me that much harder. My straining cock is begging for another release, and its agony is almost too much to take.

“Not now Spike, I need you….” Her voice is ragged, she’s breathless.

“No you don’t pet.” The overwhelming shame of it all is too much to take, and I slowly raised my head, my watered eyes staring into her green depths.

I pull away from her, and sit on the edge of my bed. My demon and body want nothing more than to ravish the hell out of her, but the man in me, sweet, bumbling William still thirsts for love.

Realizing something was wrong she sits up and slides next to me. “Spike, what is it?” She urged him, her voice pleading, but I already knew what she wants. Just another round of fucking.

“I love you, you know. I have for a while now, kitten.” I began, my voice catching in my throat. Agitated, I run my hands through my hair, messing up my blonde curls.

“I know.” She slowly admits, as if it pained her to say it.

“I know you don’t love me, but I can’t do this anymore.” I say, and she reaches her hand out to cover mine, a bit of warmth to a cold body. “I can’t keep giving you everything, and only get back so little, it’s killing me.”

“Spike, I’m sorry, but what future would a Slayer have with a soulless vampire?” She asks me, and I damn near lose control.

“A happy one, Buffy. I can’t give you kids, or a soddin’ white picket fence, but I can make you happy if you let me.” Tears blur my vision, and I stand up, walking over to my cabinets where I have a bottle of Jack Daniels waiting for me.

She looks at me disgustedly for a second and stands up, grabbing her clothes. I ignore her and take a swig of the liquor, and set it down for a second. I reach into my cabinet and pull out a pack of Marlboro Menthols, opening up the pack and pulling a fag out. I reached down and grab my silver Zippo and lit it up, smoke curdling around my naked body.

“Every time we fuck, I lose a piece of myself, Slayer. It hurt so bad when you where dead, and I was so happy to have you back, but now, it’s just like you where dead, we’re just two corpses fucking, Slayer.” I said, and she gave me a cold glare. She was livid, I could tell, and probably ready to punch me soon.

“That is not true. I am not dead inside; you’re the corpse in this twisted relationship.” She spat at me, and choking back a sob, I reached down and grabbed the bottle.

I chug the rest of it, and pull on my Marlboro, blowing some smoke out of nose. “Am I really the dead one Buffy? I’m not the one that has to fuck a cold body to get my jollies off. You do, you never had it as good as me, it’s why you keep coming back, and even now you still desire me.” I could tell, her arousal was heavy in the air.

“I’m the best you’ll ever have Spike. You sure you want to give up on that?” Buffy asks me.

I set the bottle down and walk over to her, flicking my cigarette across the room, a dying ember in the shadows threatening to swallow it whole.

“That’s where you’re wrong love. I could find me another woman, who could fuck better than you, who’s prettier than you, who’ll even love me. Only problem is that I love you too much, and that’s what buggers me. You treat me so bad, and I keep coming back, but I’m done Buffy, I’m not putting up with your pity ditty anymore. We can have something real, or you can find another corpse to abuse.” There, I finally said it. This mimicry of a relationship had to end.

“You’re a pig Spike.”

I snapped, I sprinted towards her with vampiric agility that would even make old Peaches jealous. I grabbed her by her shoulders and slammed her against the crypt wall. Her arousal grew and she grinded her denim clad crotch against my raging hard on.

“This ends Buffy.” I let her go, and turn around, when a sob escaped her throat. Surprised, I turn around to look at her and see the unshed tears shining in her eyes.

“Don’t leave me Spike.”

“I can’t take this anymore, pet.”

“I’ll change. I’ll even tell my friends, but I can’t lose you, you’re the only thing real to me now.” She reached out to me, and I let her wrap her arms around me, tears dampening my chest.

“It’s okay pet.” I let her cry for a few seconds. Her bright green eyes stared into mines, looking into my non existent soul. She sees the demon, but she also sees the man, and William is no longer thirsty. He’s had his crumb.

“No it’s not. Spike, I loved you before I died. Then I came back and realized I was still in love with you so I tried so hard to break this feeling, because I thought I shouldn’t love you, but now I realized I was wrong. You don’t need a soul Spike, I already love you.”

Her clothes were off in seconds, and she was back in my arms, loving me, holding me.

“I need you Spike. I need you.”

“I need you to wake up Spike.”

I shuddered and woke up, the sun shining through the cracks in the crypt, and I realized I was on the floor, underneath the rug with Buffy, who was looking at me quizzically.

“You finally up Sleepyhead.” Buffy asked, her arms around my waist.

“I’m definitely up love. If you know what I mean.”

She wrapped her legs around mines, and slid on top of me, sucking me up into her wet core.

Yeah, there was definitely hope.