Buffy buried her face into her pillow, trying to delay the inevitable new day a little bit longer, when two things happened. First her ‘pillow’ let out a soft moan and secondly a sinewy arm wrapped itself around her waist pulling her closer.
Fully awake now, Buffy’s eyes flew open like those roll up blinds in cartoons, only to find out she wasn’t dreaming. She really was curled up like a cat against Spike’s cold body on her sofa and instead of the disgust or fear she should be feeling, all she could think was that it was comfy. She’d never woken up with a man before let alone a vampire but since she could still feel her heart pounding out a gentle rhythm inside her breast she threw all caution to the wind and just let herself savor the feeling.
It was becoming a risky trend of hers…throwing caution to the wind, especially where this vampire was involved.
She couldn’t resist brushing away the curl that had slipped across his face anymore than she could wipe away what she was certain was a goofy smile off her face. Spike had been mind-numbingly sexy or irritating as the night had progressed but now in sleep he looked like a new man entirely. Without his trademark sneer in place or that wicked gleam in his eye he looked gentle. Like sleep had stripped away all the arrogance and attitude leaving the man beneath the demon open and exposed.
Just like that her contented mood slipped…demon.
Spike may look like an innocent angel in slumber but once those startling blue eyes of his snapped open he was a ruthless and brutal killer. She knew his exploits rivaled that of Angelus, what with his delight in killing people with railroad spikes that had earned him his namesake. He was a soulless demon, an unrepentant killer; the very thing she was chosen to slay but at this moment she wasn’t afraid.
Sometime during the night she had fallen asleep and she had been at his mercy. He could have broke her neck, drank her dry or even tied her up, but he hadn’t. Here she was alive and well, cradled inside his arms in a way that could only be described as possessively. Wrong or not, she couldn’t help feeling like she had merely woken up in the arms of a lover and not death itself.
It didn’t matter that they hadn’t so much as kissed or that all their clothes were still in place…that was just semantics. But with her half lying on top of him, her cheek resting against his shoulder and his arms wrapped around her waist it was clearly intimate. She could feel every line of his body pressed against hers like pooling wax and now that she was wide awake and aware it was playing hell on her hormones. It felt like all of her nerve endings were crackling, sending thousands of tiny yet painless jolts through her body. It was definitely a good feeling.
If what she had felt for Angel had hit her like a single lightning bolt out of the blue than what she was feeling now was like being in the middle of an electrical storm. Even the air around her seemed charged with potential and that caused a profound wave of sadness to pour over her like a cold rain.
Just being with here with him, like this, filled all those empty places that had been haunting her lately but it wasn’t to be. Last night was a fluke, a temporary truce between mortal enemies and this gentle interlude between them would most likely end the moment he opened his eyes. He'd wake up, see them like this and either shove her away or lash out at her as if she had forced him to hold her in such a way.
It was the same way she had been prepared to act if she had opened his eyes to see him staring back at her. Basically, they were both conditioned, no pre-disposed to hate one another because of fate and the eternal struggle between good and evil. Slayers were good, Vampires evil and the only passion they shared was one borne of hate. It was their destiny to bring death to one another and as much as she wished it could be different this one time, she knew it couldn’t.
She couldn’t live with herself if she allowed him to take innocent life and he wouldn’t want to become a caged beast, no longer free to embrace his true nature. Purely from a warrior’s standpoint she could admire the brutal grace of a worthy foe but her humanity and soul would not allow her to forget that he killed for fun…for pleasure. He didn’t have a noble destiny to protect the innocent he was the thing they needed protected from.
She had riled against her destiny on more than one occasion, cursed at the unfairness of it all but something inside her knew that having to give him up would hurt her as much as losing Pike and Merrick had. Watching her friends die at a vampire’s hands and having to watch Spike as he dusted from her own, brought her the same amount of pain. Which only goes to show that no matter how noble the purpose or pure the intent, taking a life even an unnatural one could leave you feeling cold inside…dead inside.
It was easier before vampires with souls and vampires having the Slayer at their mercy and cuddling them instead but if they were capable of gentler emotions, did that mean all vampires had that humanity still inside them? Buffy’s senses, were now screaming at her to slay, to push aside her ‘human’ feelings for the beast in her arms and do what she was meant to do…kill. She was a killer, as ruthless as Spike and Angelus so where did she really fit in on the good vs. evil spectrum, she asked herself. Unlike Pandora, Buffy knew that if she opened that particular box of the unknown it could throw her world in complete and utter chaos and she didn’t know if she was ready for that yet.
Nothing in either of her lives, normal girl or Slayer had prepared her for this moment and for once in her life she had no idea what to do. With Angel it had been easy, he had a soul therefore he deserved to live. Souls were good things, bright and shiny things full of purity and light but how could that be true if it was housed in a body that had done so much evil? Bundy, Dahmer, Gacy all those men were monster as bad as Angelus but since they were human that meant they had souls…souls that didn’t stop them from killing or torturing the innocent.
So what was a soul really, Buffy asked herself as she studied Spike’s face. It was an intangible bit of metaphysical energy that reminded us of our humanity but wasn’t strong enough to stop us from becoming monsters. So what did it mean when Spike had been strong enough to resist killing her or did it mean anything at all, she wondered. Maybe she was having this big theological/moral debate over nothing.
She had no idea how they had ended up tangled together and it was possible that just like her, he had fallen asleep without meaning to. Who knew maybe he had a big massacre before she had run into him and he was just really tired…to tired to risk fighting a Slayer in her own home.
It wasn’t like the movie was that riveting or the sofa was that big, so it could be just a coincidence that they had ended up like this. Heck, she had ended up like this with Xander and Willow a time or two…well they had all been mushed together on a bed but there wasn’t anything that could remotely been considered as cuddling.
Besides, Spike had probably had tons of lovers over the centuries so maybe he was used to holding on to whatever willing body was curled up against his. It wasn’t very surprising that thought made her more than a little jealous but like she had told Darla, vamps of a certain age are bound to rack up a few ex’s. Spike was a hottie, so naturally he got a lot of action….right there she abandoned that train of thought before she started acting like a pissed off girlfriend.
She wasn’t anything to Spike but the Slayer and despite her very confusing feelings for him, she didn’t think that was going to change. But since no-one, least of all Spike would ever know, she leaned forward and pressed a soft, almost ghostlike kiss against his lips before gently easing out of his grasp and making her way back into reality. More than anything she just wanted to stand there watching him sleep like a love sick teen but when she dared to look at the clock she realized she was incredibly late for school…two hours to late in fact.
Knowing Snyder was probably planning her punishment with a nearly childlike glee, was more than enough to send her racing up the stairs. In her haste she never noticed that the drapes were drawn when they had been open last night or the fact that a pair of blue eyes tracked her progress up the stairs.
“Bloody hell.” Spike muttered softly, raising his trembling fingertips up to touch his lips. He had always believed that eyes were the windows to the soul but apparently whoever said that had never been kissed by Buffy Summers. In that fleeting brush of lips, he swore he had felt everything that she was slipping inside the hollowness inside him making him whole once more. For that single moment, he had felt like a man instead of a demon.
He had no illusions about his place in this world; he hadn’t just accepted his fate, hell he had embraced it. He liked being the thing people feared, liked the way the trembled before him when they saw his true face. As a man he had been walked upon and demeaned. A milksop who was often seen running out of parties with tears gathered in his eyes as his poetry…his passion had once again been mocked openly. In a word he was pathetic and since Dru had slipped her fangs into his throat, he had shed the shy, weak William with reckless abandon and brought him into a new world. His beloved sister had given him the power to become what he was today.
A killer…a monster.
But in one night and by doing nothing more than treating him like someone who mattered, Buffy had tore down all of his shields and barriers. At first they had both watched each other with cautious eyes both making sure that even the simplest of movements couldn’t be taken as a threat. He was positive that the Slayer had done so in an effort to put him at ease because from the moment he had walked through her door, she had treated him like a guest and not an enemy. She had told him to make himself at home while she made the hot chocolate and she had even asked how many tiny marsh-mellows he would like.
He on the other hand had guarded his movements in an effort to not get himself staked. The entire way to her home he had reconsidered following the hunter into her den…a den that was more than likely stocked with plenty of sharp pointy things. But once he realized he was afraid, he abandoned the careful façade he had adopted and began to be himself. When that didn’t end up getting him staked, he allowed himself to just relax and enjoy the temporary insanity that seemed to have affected them both.
So they sat there on opposite ends of the sofa, drinking cocoa and talking like pals instead of mortal enemies. Both of them had openly mocked the badly dubbed martial arts movie before regaling each other with their own exploits. Not wanting to ruin the mood, he had only brought up his demon kills and she had willingly followed his lead; never once mentioning all of his brethren she had slain.
Then out of nowhere they somehow got to talking about Angel or more accurately telling embarrassing stories about him. He nearly cracked a rib because he laughed so hard as she told him about the way they had met. The thought of her swooping down from the air to knock the magnificent pouf on his arrogant ass was something he would have paid a great deal of money to see first hand.
Apparently his vast amusement led to her feeling somewhat guilty so she launched into a series of Angel saved the day stories. Naturally he had interrupted to tell his own less than favorable Angelus moments and despite her best intentions it wasn’t long before she was doubled over and laughing her pretty little head off.
It wasn’t until she had nodded off halfway though another horribly bad movie that he realized they had both gone to great pains to be just Buffy and Spike and not Slayer and Vampire. But if he was honest with himself he could admit William’s nature had softened his rougher edges as the night had gone on.
Looking at her for a moment, so defenseless and unaware his demon had surged forward intent on making the kill. Silently he had slid across the couch his demonic face highlighted only by the light of the television and laid his hand on her face, fully intending on ripping out her throat. But before he could move his hand down to complete his grisly act, she leaned against his palm and let out a contented sigh.
That single sigh, be it from her dreams or from his touch saved her life.
He was captivated by her and his demon decided that killing her would never be enough. She was to special and rare to merely feed upon, more than anything he wanted to possess her entirely. He wanted her to submit to him willingly and William the last remains of his humanity seconded the idea. So instead of killing her, he now planned his most risky task to date…seducing a Slayer.
He’d play the part of the devoted suitor, ply her with all the attention and affection she seemed to be starving for and THEN he’d kill her. Not permanently of course, he wanted his mate alive and willing…or undead and willing as the case may be. He’d spawned a few childer over the centuries and a few worthless minions but as far as he knew no-one had ever considered let alone managed to sire a Slayer. Probably because the chits were lethal until the very last second of their miserable lives and it wasn’t worth the risk. One wrong move or moment of inattention and she’d take you with her.
He could admit he craved her blood, the ambrosial nectar just beneath the skin but he also wanted her in the way that a man wanted a woman. More than once he had found himself willing his erection away during the time he spent with her because even though she was innocent, she unconsciously moved with the sensual grace of a well trained courtesan.
Every move or gesture, from bending over to grab the remote off the coffee table or curling on the sofa somehow appeared erotic when it was performed by her nubile young body. He reckoned some of it had to do with the fact that being the Slayer made her more aware of her body physically. She had been trained in the precise moments of the deadly arts as relentlessly as a prima ballerina studied the dance and both required perfect placement of every limb. Plus fighting for your life almost nightly gave you a highly defined sense of movement because one slight slip, one dropped shoulder could result in her death.
But he could also tell that some of it was because it was of who she was. She was the kind of girl who could walk into a room a draw every man’s gaze because she positively radiated life but she was unaware of her own worth. During their talk she had mentioned her absentee father and he was willing to bet his neglect and abandonment had contributed to her dumping Angel. The girl wanted to be wanted, needed to be adored and cherished and while Angel may have been to sodden thick to figure that out, he wasn’t.
To kill this girl you’ve got to love her.
Love, the very weakness that Angelus once belittled him for was the key to claiming the girl that had captured both their attention. Despite what Buffy and her little friends thought he knew that soul or no soul, Angelus was still a part of the man they called Angel and knowing that he would succeed where his grandsire hadn’t was just icing on the cake.
So with that firmly set in his mind, he had gotten up to close the curtains before gently easing her into his arms. Then he had used his senses to observe her reaction when she woke up but out of all the things he had been expecting he had no idea it would end with a kiss. That stunning bit of tenderness hadn’t changed his plans, only strengthened his resolve to have her utterly but it certainly made the sacrifices he was prepared to make all that much easier to bare.
Closing his eyes as he heard her coming back down the stairs, he mentally went over his plans.