Soft, gentle touches, innocent. She felt the cold rough skin of his hands brush her hair back, hair, which was now dry and tangled. She was content to pretend to be asleep, to let the vampire in front of her groom her and be gentle. She knew it was a side of him she would never witness if she was awake. She knew he was dangerous but also knew he was different from any other vampire she had ever encountered before. Not that she would admit to it aloud. But right now, as tired and heavy as she felt, she didn’t care.
Spike sat in bed, his back leaning against the headboard while Buffy’s head rested against his chest. His fingers swept through her hair, freeing it of its tangles slowly and gently. He could hear her breathing return to its normal rhythm and her heart speed up a little. She was awake but seemed content to let him pet her as she laid happily snuggled next to him.
Wrong. That’s was it was. What they were doing was wrong and should have made him want to puke out whatever guts he still had left. His demon screamed at him to kill her then, when she seemed to trust him so much. There she was, so easy to devour and conquer whole. He was sure he could even turn her if he wanted.
But a small voice in the back of his mind wouldn’t let him. That small voice which hadn’t spoke at all until now. That small voice which kept his demon in check and him happy to leave her be. But it was still wrong. A vampire was not supposed to be grooming a slayer. A vampire was supposed to drain her dry and bathe in her blood. Yet for some unknown reason, this vampire did not.
His head perked up at the sound of footsteps making their way towards their room. “Time to get up, Slayer. It seems we have company.” Buffy’s eyes opened as she sat up and looked at him, confused. He had known she was awake this whole time?”
Before she could ask, the clicking sound of the door being unlocked sounded through the room. Spike swung his legs off the bed and hopped into the wheelchair as the door opened and their stood Angelus. Buffy pulled the covers to her chest, holding her knees up to her while Spike growled and rolled towards him. “I see you haven’t drained her dry yet. I wonder why. You could be stronger by now and yet the slayer lives. Have you at least taken a taste? And by that, I don’t just mean blood,” he drawled, a wicked grin forming on his lips.
“Fuck you Angelus,” Spike growled. He would’ve given anything right then and there to be able to stand and kick the gel boy’s sorry little ass.
“Not now, Spike. Maybe later. I’m a little worn out. That Drusilla can go all night, but you know that, don’t you?” Angelus taunted, as Spike clutched at the handles. “You know that thing that she does, where she kind of hooks her legs behind her head so you can pound further into her? Or when she,” Angelus began but Spike threw himself at the stronger vampire, lucky to land a punch in the vamp’s face. But Angelus easily flung Spike back, sending the younger vampire across the room.
Buffy scrambled across the bed, rushing to Spike where she cradled the broken vampire in her arms. Spike growled, glaring at the old vampire as he tried to push himself up off the ground. “No, Spike. You can’t. You’re too weak. He’ll kill you,” Buffy stated, holding him back.
“Listen to the girl, Spike. She’s smart. I will kill you.” Buffy glared at Angelus, standing up to meet his gaze.
“And I will kill you.” A malicious grin spread across Spike’s face at the thought of Angelus dying but Angelus laughed it off. Buffy glared at him angrily, her fists clenching and unclenching.
“You can’t kill me, Buffy. Because I know you. You love me and if there’s a chance that you could get me souled again, you’ll take it. You’ll never be able to kill me, Buffy.” Buffy looked away from him, her eyes closed. “I knew it. Anyways, I’m not here to verbally assault you. I’m here for something else.” He walked over to the opposite side of the bed, finding the chains on the ground and the whole in the wall. “I see you got out of the chains.”
Spike pulled himself into his chair with Buffy’s help. Both watched Angelus wearily as he looked over the room before his gaze settled on Buffy again. “I also see you have new clothes. Very flattering. I’ve seen that shirt before.” His gaze turned to Spike and he grinned. “You have a thing for girls wearing your clothes, Spikey?”
“Get what you want and go,” Spike growled, flecks of gold glittering in his eyes which had narrowed into sharp slits. Angelus laughed, nodding as he walked over and grabbed Buffy’s wrists.
“Right then, you’ll have her back later on. Dru wants to play dolly with her and I want to play a little myself.” Buffy’s knee shot up, hitting him in the groin. He dropped her wrist, his hands instantly coming to cover his crotch, leaving his body defenseless. Her hand balled into a fist which connected with Angelus’s face, flinging him back into the door. She walked over to him, pulling him up as she situated herself on top of him, beginning to pound into his face in earnest.
“You are not him! You are nothing. You could never be Angel. Don’t you ever compare yourself to him. You are nothing! Nothing! I hate you! You killed him! You bastard!” Spike rolled over to her, grabbing her and pulling her off his grand-sire.
“Calm down slayer! You have to stop now!” he growled as he wrapped his arms around her to confine her arms. She struggled against him before she finally gave up hope and stopped.
Angelus sat up, chuckling insanely as he licked away the blood which ran from a cut on his lip. His face was nothing but a bloody pulp from the beating he had taken from her. But he loved it. He loved the fact that he could turn her into a crazed monster, much like himself. “Use that rage and hate Buffy. You’ll be on the fast track to becoming like me,” Angelus laughed as he stood up. “Aw, did I break her?” he taunted as he watched Buffy shake in his grandchilde’s arms.
“You had your fun Angelus, save what you had planned for another day,” Spike stated, tired and sore. Angelus laughed as he turned to leave.
“Oh sweet William. You’re falling in love again,” he sang, before closing the door behind him and locking it, not seeing the death glare that Spike had sent him.
The day passed with nothing but silence between the two as they laid in bed, Spike writing and Buffy reading a book which she had found in the trunk earlier on. They were content with the other’s presence and did not talk about what had happened earlier with Angelus, both ready to forget it happily.
Buffy flipped the page of the book, nearing the end of the sad love story. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she pictured what was happening in the book in her mind’s eye. Spike noticed the sniffles coming from her and looked over, noting she was reading Gaston Leroux’s Phantom of the Opera. He smiled, rolling his eyes as he returned to his random writing. A few minutes later, Buffy had closed the book gently, wiping her eyes.
“How was the book?” Spike asked casually as Buffy looked over at him.
“It was so sad! How could she leave Erik for that prat Raoul? It’s wrong. She should have gotten together with Erik,” she stated, crossing her arms over her chest.
“It wouldn’t have worked. Erik was a monster, a murderer, deformed, and different. Christine would have lived in darkness for the rest of her life because he could not go out into the light. She would have spent the rest of her life living in the sewers of Paris under a burnt out Opera House. And what if they had kids? Their children would have suffered the same affliction as their disfigured father. They would never have had a normal life.” He smiled as he looked over at her. “Besides, even though Erik loved her greatly, he did the right thing in letting her go. He let her have the life he could never give her. Also, if it didn’t end the way it did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now would we?” Buffy sighed, nodding as she looked down at the book, tracing the lettering with gentle fingers. “Or does this book hit too close to home? You being Christine and a vampire we all know and hate being Erik.” Buffy shook her head, looking him straight in the eye.
“Angel is not at all like Erik. Erik is passionate, gentle yet harsh, vulnerable yet strong. He’s a contrast of everything. A mask to hide what he is inside, just like his face only it’s the opposite. With the mask, he was showing beauty to hide a monster. But with his acting, he was showing a beast to hide a gentle man. No, he reminds me of another vampire I know,” she whispered the last statement, quickly turning her head away from his heated gaze.
“And who is the other vampire that you know?” Spike asked, knowing full well that she was describing him, hitting so close to home that it hurt.
“You,” she whispered, so soft that no human would have heard her. Good thing Spike wasn’t human. Spike nodded.
“How am I like him?”
“You can be so cruel and harsh at one moment, making me want to rip your head off and then at other times, you can be so gentle, it’s like you’re a completely different person.” She stared at him intently, watching his expression carefully which remained blank while his eyes held a flicker of something else. “And you wear a mask everyday. You hide behind a human face but you’re a demon underneath it.”
“And you, Slayer, hide behind fake smiles and make up when in reality, you would give anything to just have one moment where you can cry to your heart’s content. You tell pretty little lies to your mum and friends so they don’t worry about you when you’re really dying inside. And while you are trying to keep them warm and cozy, you hate them because they can’t see that each second, a little more of you dies. You hate them because they don’t carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. You hate them because they don’t really have to worry about whether or not they’ll be alive the next day. You hate them because they can sleep at night while you toss and turn because of the nightmares you have. They have their whole life right before them and you; you only have a few more years if you’re lucky.” Buffy sat quietly, wishing he would stop. It seemed as if he was reading into her soul, as if he could open her up and see everything that she thought about. “And what’s worse is you hate yourself for hating them. You berate yourself for wishing that they were the ones fighting every night instead of you. You kill a part of yourself everyday and you pray that you’ll find peace. You have a death wish.”
“Is that a bad thing?” she asked.
“Everyone has a death wish, it’s just sad to see it so soon in you,” he stated. She nodded, placing the book on the bedside table before blowing out the candle. She then climbed under the covers and looked at Spike. He nodded, a smile gracing his lips as he did the same with his book and pen, blowing out his own candle before stripping himself of his shirt, shoes, and socks. He climbed under the covers and pulled her into his arms. “Tonight, just sleep and dream of something better than this life.”