She’d tasted unsatisfying.
Spike propped himself against the stone wall of the alley, looking contemplatively at the stack of refuse behind the shop, not seeing the body of the girl he’d drained and discarded but thinking of it nonetheless. He was entirely lost in thought, wondering at the lack of thrill in the blood, and not seeing the usual poetry of the kill.
Buffy’s hand on his shoulder had him spinning in his mind and his non-beating heart almost exploding with adrenaline at being caught.
“Hey. Whatcha doing?” Her smile was beatific and excited. For him.
Spike looked dumbfounded, then remembered himself and quickly wiped his mouth in case any blood had remained on his lip. By the look on her face he assumed she had no clue what she’d inadvertently caught him at, and it was good if he could keep it that way. Right, leading her out of the alley was a bleeding brilliant first step.
“Actually, pet, was looking for you.” The lie popped out of his mouth without any real thought, but as her face lit up he wondered if maybe he’d wanted to be and that’s why the freshly tapped blood had lacked the usual zing.
It was no use. This confusion he felt wasn’t going to have him lose focus while only around the Slayer. Even with her presence far away from him he was all muddled up, wondering if he really knew what he was doing. He’d never questioned himself before, taking it for granted when things occurred to fuck up his perception. Now, it required contemplation to work out why he was waning in his determination to kill her. Needed explanation why her smiles made his body feel light and tingling in preparation for…something.
“I was kinda hoping you might wanna go on patrol with me?” Buffy was going for subtle-flirty-casual, but her eagerness made her forget herself. “I have to check out that mausoleum and try and work out this Harvest thingy. Might be a case of safety in numbers.” Buffy looked up at him, hope bursting from every tensed muscle of her body.
Her anxiety was a turn on, Spike found, but not in the way he’d been expecting. She wanted to be around him, and the shock still hadn’t dispersed. She actually wanted to be around a vampire—him—when he’d put an end to two of her kind this century. While he’d capitalised on the girlies being all hearts aflutter for him in clubs and other scenarios as a quick satisfying meal, he’d never had the opportunity of seeing them as anything but chow. Buffy was more before she’d even opened her mouth.
For one fascinating instant, Spike wanted to take time off from being himself. Go with the chit and see what it would be like to be something other than what he was for a change. What could it hurt? To take a time out and see how the other half actually lived—when he wasn’t making sure they got good and dead.
“Nothin’ better to do. Lead the way, luv.” He could feel the heat of her body as she moved beside him, felt the fire of her gaze when she thought he couldn’t tell. He felt robbed of all his sense and hard won identity by the time they drew to a stop outside the same crypt that had seen the action the previous night.
They hadn’t spoken one word on the whole trip. Hadn’t needed to as Spike tried to block out the easy way they were together with the image of a terrified redhead laying in a tangle of limbs back in the alley. That’s who he was—what he did. He had no real place for a soulful outlook, even if he was pretending to have one. Which begged the question, didn’t it. How bloody long was he planning on this pretence of goodness? How much of himself was he prepared to sacrifice just to get under the Slayer’s defences?
“Remember Creepy Stalker Guy?”
Buffy pulled him to a stop outside the stone structure and Spike tilted his head and watched her. She was so young, so innocent and yet so distracting in an uncomfortably appealing way. There was something different in her mix—something other than the rippling power of the universe making her the Slayer. Something that added to the complexity of her failure or death. Something that threw Spike completely off his game.
“Yeah. Is he still following you?”
Buffy grimaced, and then nodded her head. She was standing so close, her body barely a touch away from his and it made the air around them almost crackle and seem heavy and tense.
“Um, kinda? Well, if you mean does he pop up behind me wherever I go, then big with the affirmative. In fact, I was just bringing it up because I’m expecting him to be behind door number one. Wanted to give you a heads up, even though I told him I wouldn’t be going down in that vamp nest without my partner to back me up. He wasn’t interested in the job.” Buffy stopped and her eyes widened comically as the impact of her words on Spike finally registered. He looked totally gobsmacked.
“Do you need me to protect you from the Big Bad?” He should have sneered, really he should have. He’d meant to. Started to. His lips were obviously broken, or maybe it was just his brain. Every time he was around her she surprised him and his reactions became unfamiliar.
“Shyeah. As if. I just thought it’d be kind of nice—“ Her eyes dropped to the ground, hands and body shifting nervously as she admitted what she’d hoped. “If maybe you’d watch my back.”
The last time Spike had been shocked into have eyes that bugged was when he’d walked into the middle of his first ménage a trois, Angelus pumping into Dru like a racehorse while Darla rode his back complete with crop. At the mention of her back, all Spike could suddenly see was sweat slickened skin and his hands aching to touch. The answer seemed more than obvious.
“’Course, pet. It’s what us souled vamps are here for.” Such an abomination of words should have choked him to get passed his throat—yet they were delivered with an ease that Spike couldn’t have thought possible. This bloody chit certainly kept a bloke on his toes.
Mention of the dreaded ‘S’ word brought thoughts to mind he’d tried to keep at arms length while he’d rested. What it would mean to have a soul—to actually be the vamp she thought he was. The word itself had been like a trust switch and once thrown, he didn’t even have to prove himself. Sure, she expected him to turn on his kind—and being that the majority of those he hung around were a bunch of wankers, it wasn’t too big an ask. Even the prospect of leaving Drusilla behind didn’t cut as deep as it might have once. It was funny how much a man cut himself off and saw the outside world clearer when the woman he’d loved—convinced himself he’d loved—for the past century mentioned another name once too often.
Spike had been forced to follow the psychic whim of his sire as she searched for Angelus. Dru had refused to accept that she wasn’t loved. Some pretty twisted pixies had whispered lies in her ear, promising that if she could just find him, he’d want her back. It was nothing but smoke and mirrors and another example of how shot her poor mind was—again thanks to Angelus.
But if she was right—if they did find the bastard that had made a profession of tearing Spike’s world apart time and again by trailing his stubby hands over Dru and leaving the brunette shaking in lust—then everything Spike had been would be over. He knew enough—felt the urge deep enough—to believe that. He knew Angelus was here, residing in this hungry mouth of hell. He just wondered which one of them would be devoured first.
Now the Slayer was warning him that the demon Spike most wanted to avoid could be right behind the door, listening in on their conversation and hearing Spike’s distinctive accent. She didn’t know it, of course. Couldn’t have a clue about the family connection between the two master vampires who were playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse with her. But he was brought into a possible confrontation a lot quicker than he’d planned. Took some skill to avoid those that were too close. He knew Dru had already found her way. Of course he’d heard how The Master was trying to get a leg back up into the real world. As far as he was concerned, the silly sod deserved his underground tomb and should bloody well stay there and keep out of the younger generation’s hair. It didn’t surprise him at all to know that Darla had slinked back to be at the old codger’s beck and call, and now Dru and Angelus had found their roots.
Well, not Spike. No bloody way was he getting involved in such a pissy plan. It would fail. As much as he didn’t know about the Slayer and her mates, he knew that she’d win. The scent of victory clung to her, and even though he’d managed to get himself under her wing and her trust in his absent soul, he didn’t want to be the spy in her ranks.
For one brief moment, he saw himself more as the lover in her bed. Though he suspected she was too innocent to allow him that close, he couldn’t stop the sudden phantom thump in his chest at the hope he could convince her to. As soon as the image of naked flesh began to make him stare at the reality in front of him, he remembered the sprawled body of his latest victim. He was standing beside the Slayer now, wondering at the pleasure the thought of naked Buffy flesh brought him even while he had another woman’s warm blood thumping through his veins. Suddenly he felt wrong, and in agonising confusion, Spike stared at the ground.
There was nothing he could do. If it was his fate to encounter Angelus behind this door—some kind of cosmic payback for wanting to keep the Slayer’s back—then he’d accept it. Embrace it for what it was. His penance for not being the right amount of demon. For letting his own side down while his evil nature battled with the desire to feel real. Wasn’t like the git wouldn’t expect it. He had always been saying Spike was never enough. Over a hundred years had proven him correct. Not enough for Angelus to stay and raise them right. Not enough for Dru to love him despite the magic she’d seen the night he’d died. Not enough for Buffy unless he lied about who he really was.
For the first time he wondered what it would be like: to be the Slayer’s lover—her beloved. To be the one she trusted above all others, the one who kept her balanced and alive. The one who fought by her side and kept evil as far from their pinnacle day as he possibly could. It was a fantasy that proved Spike should be dusted just for thinking it.
He hadn’t noticed that Buffy had caught his eyes and that they had begun staring at each other with longing and interest. She barely blinked as she seemed completely lost. Time passed slowly and Spike could feel the earth shift them closer together. He could feel the warmth of her body on the night—could feel it reach out and catch him in its spell. He didn’t want this, not really, and yet he couldn’t turn his back on it and let her know his lie. Really didn’t want to see the look on her face when she took that step back and placed a stake in her empty hand.
“We should probably do this.” Her voice was husky and it made her sound older than he guessed she was. He wondered if she was talking about the search, or if she was eager to explore the more obvious possibilities between them.
Spike nodded, willing to head off on either one of those options as soon as she let him in on which she’d chosen. As soon as she dropped her eyes, he knew. Right, they were risking the poofter. Great.
Spike took a deep breath as he dug into his duster pocket for his cigs. He lit up with sexual flare, smirking as he heard the escalating heartbeat of the girl beside him. She seemed awkward as she rushed passed him, brushing against him like a whisper in the dark, and pushed open the door.
The interior was black, barely any light from the moon shining inside. Spike inhaled, then let out the air in a relieved rush. “Whoever’s been stalking you, pet, he’s not here. Looks like it’s just you and me.” He saw her subtle shiver and felt himself grinning. He still had it, whatever it was. Just because it never impacted on Dru didn’t mean he was completely hopeless as a man.
Sticking as close behind her as he could without touching her, Spike followed her to a chained gate.
“Looks like they’re not eager to let us in, luv.” He reached passed her face and gave the gate a bit of a rattle. It may have emphasised his point, but that wasn’t his motive. Something was happening to him, and he couldn’t describe it, no matter how much he wanted to. But there was this compulsion to be near her, to tease the force around her to see if she’d break and allow him close. Allow him to flow into her skin and break his own barrier of propriety between soulless vamp and slayer.
He left his fingers curled through the wire of the gate, his face an inch away from her cheek. Buffy didn’t move, didn’t breathe from what he could tell. And then, slowly, her lungs resumed their normal scheduled activity and he marvelled at the rightness of it. And felt his body react in all sorts of ways as she gently exhaled and her body drifted closer to his. Felt movement of bits she didn’t need to be exposed to just yet as he felt the sheen of aroused persperation raise up on her skin.
Slowly Spike dragged the pads of his fingers over the wire until he reached the padlock keeping them out. He sucked in a breath of her, his face turned into the side of hers as she stared straight ahead, and then yanked the bolt free. The shock of it moved her, and Spike almost collapsed in giddy excitement as her jump had the side of her breast brush against the inside arm of his duster. He gulped, and then nudged her forward with his hand in the small of her back. Her skin scorched him.
And his journey began.
[Reviews - 145]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 3385 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:
I am so grateful for the few that have commented, you give me courage to continue posting. The response to this fic has been surprisingly low, but I'm enjoying writing it so hopefully the handful reading will too. I hope you enjoy this chapter.