The sounds of nature’s song woke Buffy mid afternoon. Her eyes opened slowly as her brain dug itself out of the dark abyss of sleep. The first site to behold her was Spike’s bare chest, silent and unmoving. Buffy must have used his chest as a pillow while she slept. Spike’s arm was curled around her, cradling her body against him. She couldn’t believe that they fell asleep on the twin-sized mattress, covered with sheets Spike procured weeks ago. His duster covered her body, something Spike must have done after she fell asleep.
Looking up at his face, Buffy traced the relaxed lines that framed Spike’s face. He looked so… so different. Years of life were hidden under the stoic mask he wore every night, never to reveal his true beauty. Buffy watched as the muscle in his cheek twitched and his eyes moving under strained eyelids. Spike was obviously dreaming. His lips formed a small pout, the lower lip jutting out, begging for her to just kiss it.
Suddenly, Buffy pulled back and sat up. Oh my god? What was she thinking? This was Spike. She brought his duster up to her chest. This…this was? Buffy just didn’t know. But it scared her. Badly. Familiar words of ‘monster’ and ‘soulless’ flew through her brain as she scolded herself for feeling…something… for him.
Buffy looked back at his sleeping form, Spike’s arm now draped over the side of the bed, his biceps twitching from their loss. He seemed so serene. Buffy shook her head. There was nothing serene about a killing machine, a vampire with the only purpose in his unlife to cause death.
Sometimes it surprised Buffy, how deadly accurate Spike was. The man, she corrected herself; the vampire that protected her on a nightly basis was the same vampire that had tried to kill her for years but couldn’t, years of half cocked schemes and nefarious campaigns with only one virtual goal in his mind. Death of the Slayer. Death to her. But none of them came to fruition. Was it the fates intervening? Protecting one from the other until a time when…
No. She couldn’t think that way. Not when it came to Spike. She couldn’t allow him to love her. Couldn’t… because if she did, it would mean that Angel… Buffy cut her thoughts off. It didn’t matter what anything meant.
She now knew she could always count on Spike to have her back when things got too much. Buffy never had to worry during patrol, when the sun set, he would be there, in the shadows. Spike would swoop in like a romance novel hero and brutally attack anyone that got too close to her person. It was strange when she thought of it. In the past she was with men that would do the same thing, to protect her. Angel. Riley. They did the same thing as Spike. She wouldn’t allow it, she couldn’t allow it then, but now could she? Maybe it was different with Spike. Something was different.
“Huh?” She felt Spike’s body jerk awake. Still staring forward, Buffy felt Spike’s hand rest against her hip, caressing her through her clothes. “Love?”
Spike felt her stiffen at his term of endearment, but she didn’t pull away. He watched as Buffy slowly turned around. “You’re awake.”
He stretched and nodded, “Seems to be about four or so, we’ve slept a long time.”
“Yeah,” she agreed and then turned around to avoid his gaze. Spike sighed, reading her body language and took his hand off her person.
“Gotta be pekish. Wonder if we still have anything in the cupboards for you?” Spike stood up and looked around the tiny cabin. Lucky for him, the dense trees around the cabin blocked direct sunlight through the tiny windows.
Buffy watched as Spike walked over to the tiny kitchen area. Shouldn’t be considered a kitchen with barely a sink and stove with a cupboard. It was more of a kitchenette. Spike scratched his bare chest with his right hand as he searched for nourishment for Buffy.
“Spike?” Buffy asked quietly.
Spike looked back at Buffy with his eye brow raised, “Yeah, poodle?”
“It’s… never mind.” She shrugged and got out of the bed.
Perplexed, Spike turned around and finished his search for her food. He pulled out a pack of crackers and a bottle of peanut butter. “Here we go!”
Buffy nibbled her lower lip as she watched Spike open the package of crackers and jar of peanut butter. He quickly applied the orange goo to the crackers and laid them on a napkin. Buffy couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter. The hurt look in Spike’s eyes made Buffy regret her mirth.
“Sorry,” she stifled the rest of her laughter when Spike set the knife down. “It’s just that you look so cute.”
Blinking slowly, Spike thought he misheard her. “Pardon?”
Buffy’s hand gestured his way, “You know cute. With the curly, bed head and bare chest. Making the Slayer a snack of peanut butter and crackers.”
Spike’s lips twitched, obviously repressing his amusement. “Is that so?”
Buffy giggled and then abruptly stopped her voice suddenly distant. “You know… for an evil undead thing.”
Spike’s face fell when he heard her. “Yeah,” he muttered and went back to making her snack. The knife stopped, poised above the cracker when he looked up at her. “In a second thought: being the evil, undead thing that I am. I shouldn’t be feeding the Slayer. Making her kiddie snacks and all that rot.”
He threw the knife on the counter and stepped away. Suddenly angry that she denied him, denied his feelings, his character once again. Buffy had the decency to look ashamed. “Spike, I didn’t mean…”
Spike glanced at her and then sighed, “Look, forget about it.”
“But…” Buffy turned towards him and tried to explain.
“No,” Spike quickly walked to his duster and rooted around the front pocket for his pack of cigarettes. “Can’t harm the feelings of a evil, soulless being, can ya?”
“Spike,” she sighed, not knowing what to say.
As he inhaled the smoke and shook his head and pointed towards her. “Doesn’t matter, does it?”
“What matter?”
“Doesn’t matter what I do. I’m in a little box labelled evil. It doesn’t matter how many vamps I stake or how many Polgara demons I slice through. Doesn’t matter I stuck around while you were dead and buried! Or that I took care of Dawn while your precious soulfull Scoobies scampered around finding the Urn of Osiris. Bring’in you back because they couldn’t take the weight of the world resting on their shoulders!! I’m stuck in that damn box because you taped it up and shipped it out.”
Tears marred Buffy’s vision as she watched Spike rant.
“Doesn’t matter that I’ve changed! I no longer see you or your little band of merry friends as happy meals on legs. I love you, want to live in your world and what do I get? Just the damn label of evil and soulless. I’ve had it!”
Buffy stepped forward and reached out for him, but he evaded her.
“You know what? If I’m so evil and soulless; I should just leave you out here. Middle of nowhere, obviously no one comes around as this place as it is deserted.”
“Spike,” Buffy paused. “I didn’t mean…”
“What? What Slayer? You didn’t mean what? That I was evil?” At her nod, he continued, “I hardly believe that. Dru was right, I should have killed you a long time ago.”
“Stop it!” Buffy yelled back. Sadness in her eyes, “I can’t. I’m sorry I can’t, Spike.”
Spike took a hit off his cigarette and looked thoughtfully at her. “What are you saying, Slayer?”
Buffy paused to wipe the tears from her eyes. Slowly she walked towards the door to the cabin, apparently lost in thought. “You ask me every night, what I want. What I need. But don’t you see? I can’t. I can’t have what I want! What I need!”
Spike looked her up and down. “And that is?”
Buffy paused and looked at Spike disbelievingly, shaking her head. “And, you know why? Because I’m stuck in my own little box. Everyone forgot about me in that box, forgot to punch holes in it. You’re lucky that you don’t have to breathe, you won’t suffocate.”
“What are you saying? Lost me a while ago.”
“Nothing. I’m saying nothing Spike.” Buffy looked outside, the sun was still high in the sky. “I need…”
Spike tossed his cigarette away, “Need?”
Slowly Buffy turned back towards him with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Spike watched helplessly as Buffy opened the door and stepped out. He wanted to go after her, wanted to… do something, anything. It broke his heart every time he saw that she cut off her emotions, no matter what they were. He saw it in her eyes, the resignation she felt. Some part of him felt guilty for being the cause of it, for taking her comment serious when he knew she didn’t seem to mean anything by it.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay... but we are now officially moved in. Now I just have to unpack boxes... darn! So here is Ch3... Mercy went through it with a fine tooth comb and I hope I fixed everything that was confusing.
As for those that want me to hurry with the NC17 stuff.... you know I'm all about the angst... Someone has to come to grips with some hidden secrets before they can partake with some lovely smut.
Enjoy!
As for those that want me to hurry with the NC17 stuff.... you know I'm all about the angst... Someone has to come to grips with some hidden secrets before they can partake with some lovely smut.
Enjoy!