Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Dark Reflection
Chapter Two: Red Rum
Spike rolled around on his bed, sweaty sheets stuck to his pale skin. He flailed in his alcohol-induced dream, and cried bitter tears, sliding down his cool cheeks. He wanted her so badly that he could almost taste her, her exquisite scent smothering his senses even in sleep. He felt her heat, her warm body pressed against his, responsive, doing exactly as he desired.
Just a dream…
He felt a sudden sting across his face, and heard Dawn cry out indignantly, as he shot up in the bed. The lights were on, and he groggily realized that he was on the couch in the Summers’ house.
His eyes half-closed, eyelids trying to block out the blinding light, he leaned back on the couch – and saw her, the goddess that was Buffy, the redemption that he’d never hold, not truly, yet had already had a small taste of. She meant so much to him, affected him so deeply, it felt like his stomach was all tied up in knots, anytime she was present.
But at the moment, those knots were for a slightly different reason than usual.
She had a steely glare on her face, cold green eyes staring into his with fury, and he knew he was in for it.
“Buffy?” He spoke, unsure of how to respond to her in this condition.
She ignored him -- not that it surprised him -- and turned to Dawn. “Go to your room, Dawnie.”
“But Buffy…” Her cries of indignant protest fell on deaf ears.
“Go, Dawn.”
Dawn shot her a dirty look as she headed up the stairs to her room.
“What do you think you’re playing at, Spike?” she asked coldly, staring him down as she practically spat his name at him.
“What do you mean, Buffy?” He replied sarcastically.
A look of anger flashed across Buffy’s face at his words.
“Getting drunk around my little sister, sleeping with my friends -- just what are you playing at Spike?” She hovered over him, arms folded over her chest, looking righteously furious.
“Sod off, Slayer, I’m not here to play twenty bloody questions,” he responded, earning an attempted punch to the nose, which he caught before it could connect. “I don’t think so, pet.” He pushed her away from him and got up off the couch.
“Well, guess what, Spike? If you don’t answer me, I will fucking stake you.” Buffy snapped back, stepping even further into his space in an intimidating way.
“Try to do so, pet, and I will make you remember I’m not as toothless or as whipped as you seem to think. Maybe you can scare off Angelus or G.I. Jackass, but your threats do not scare me. I have killed two Slayers already, and I can still make you my third,” Spike declared, his voice trembling with repressed rage. “And since you really want to know the answers, I’ll bloody well tell you, ‘cause after tonight, there’s no more kick the Spike for you, love -- I’m out.”
“What do you mean ‘out’?” Buffy asked, her voice faltering, her lower lip trembling.
“I’m leaving Sunnydale for good. I’m done being your whipping boy.”
“You’re just going to leave me here?” Buffy asked indignantly.
“Yeah, sounds just about right, love. You want me out of your life so fucking badly, you got it! I can’t be around you anymore. I’m sick of you being such a bloody bitch to me. Do you want to know what happened between me and Anya? Do you remember your ‘real for you’ speech? After that I cried so fucking hard I had to get drunk just to stop -- so yeah, I went to the Magic Box to find me a spell to make me forget about you, anything that would make me feel better -- something that could take the pain away, the pain of knowing what you smell like, what you taste like, and not being able to touch you, to be near you. Anya whipped out a bottle, and me and her got drunk. I s’pose the alcohol blurred our minds a bit, and we did it – but it was nothing more than a drunken attempt to forget the two people we really loved so much, who hurt us so bad.
Spike was quiet for a moment, his head bowed as he tried to recover his composure. “You hurt me so bad, Buffy,” he finally confessed, his voice soft and trembling slightly, “using me for months, taking and never giving, letting me love you without ever returning anything. I hate you for what you did to me those months, fucking me and reminding me of everything I was – nothing but a soulless, evil thing to be used by you, you hateful bitch!”
“It wasn’t supposed to be like that,” Buffy sobbed, surprised by the pain she felt at hearing her old lover curse her name.
“You think I have no feelings, no dreams, no aspirations. Well, I dreamed of you, Buffy, for quite some time -- of you letting me love you -- just once, you letting your guard down and letting me love you like I’ve wanted to for years. But instead, you gave me a crumb, while you took everything I had to give.”
“I’m sorry, Spike...”
“No, you’re not. You don’t regret what you did, not really. I was there to make you feel alive, because no one’s else could really understand what you’d been through – no one else could make you feel anything. I realize that, but I would rather never have been with you, than to taste you, without truly having you.”
“Have me, then,” Buffy pleaded. “I’m here.” She opened her arms wide in a feeble attempt to keep Spike from leaving.
“I’ll pass. You could never be my girl.” Spike turned his back and headed out the kitchen door.
Buffy followed him. She refused to let him go, not like Angel and Riley -- not again.
“Spike, wait!” she yelled. It was raining outside, and Spike was unharmed by the sun, which was blotted out by the clouds. The rain was pouring hard, matting Buffy’s hair down to her skull as she rushed out into it after him.
“Go save the day or something, hero,” Spike spat at her bitterly.
“Already kinda did. I stopped the nerds from robbing a bank. Warren got away, but his buddies are in jail,” Buffy stated, rushing towards him.
“Where was I?” Spike asked, taking in the scent of her, soft vanilla permeating the air, even through the rain, as almost against his own will, he slowed his pace to allow her to catch up.
“Passed out drunk, if I remember correctly.”
“Really. Damn, I missed out.”
“Nothing much, just the balls of Nissen Ramen or something…” She shrugged carelessly as she finished, “I beat them senseless.” Moving quickly to stand in front of him, blocking his path, Buffy wrapped her arms around Spike. “Please don’t go,” she pleaded, her voice suddenly serious, tears in her eyes, her bottom lip quivering.
“I can’t be your lapdog anymore, Buffy. I love you to death, but I’ve gotta have some pride,” Spike insisted, his eyes low to the ground, knowing that if he looked into her eyes, he’d falter, for her.
He loved her too damn much.
“Fine, let’s make this work. I’m not ready for you to not be here,” Buffy said.
“It’s not that easy, pet, you don’t just jump right back into things,” Spike said. “I need to figure out if I even want to give this another shot. I love you, Buffy, but I’m not ready to have you break my heart again.”
“I’m so sorry, Spike…”
“Don’t be. I’m just as much to blame as you are. What happened, it’s too late to change it. All we can do now is learn from it, and try to make a better future for us, whether we’re together or not,” he replied slowly, the words coming with difficulty, the prospect of not being with Buffy killing him inside.
“What if your future is with me?” Buffy asked softly, staring into his blue eyes.
“And you what, decided that in less than two minutes? How can you expect me to forget all these years of humiliation, Buffy? I loved you, and you spat it back in my fucking face. I know, I didn’t go about it the right way sometimes, but you locked me out, Buffy, I had no choice in doing what I did. Sure as hell didn’t want to, but you wouldn’t let me love you,” Spike replied.
“Don’t go! I need you here!” Buffy pleaded.
“To shag you senseless? Is that what you need me here for?” Spike demanded.
“No, its not gonna be like that anymore! I need you here.” Buffy said, sobbing in pain.
“Tell me then Slayer, how is it going to be? Can you really go and tell the Scoobies what you’ve done, what you’re going to keep doing? Me? I’m not going to be your bloody secret any longer. If I stay, it’s gotta be real, not just some halfway thing,” Spike replied.
“I’m not ready to tell them. Give me some time.”
“Time to what? To let me love you? To let me be that guy that doesn’t go away like Peaches or Whitebread? What is it you want from me, Buffy?”
“Love. Is that too much to ask?”
“’S what I’ve bloody given you all this time, and you couldn’t accept it, ‘cause I’m not alive, I’m supposed to be some dead thing with no feelings. Well, guess what Goldilocks? I’ve fucking loved you all this time, asking for just a crumb, and you gave me nothing!” Spike snapped.
“It just wasn’t the right time,” Buffy said weakly, her eyes downcast.
“And you want me to wait for what? Wait for you to finally get over Peaches and feel alive? For you to finally grow up and be the woman you want to be instead of the girl your friends try to mold you into?” Spike spat vehemently.
Buffy shut her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Please, Spike, don’t go.”
“Sorry pet, I just don’t have time for this.”
“You’re a vampire, you’re immortal. You have all the time in the world,” Buffy persisted.
“Not really the point, love,” Spike responded, and for once she didn’t complain about his automatic nickname for her.
“Before you go, tell me if it’s real, what you feel. If it’s not, then go. But if it is, just give me a chance.”
“It’s real.”
“Do you mean that, Spike?”
“For you.”
Spike turned to leave, when suddenly something slammed hard into his chest, spinning him around and sending him flying into Buffy’s fence. Blood stained the fence, and Spike looked down at the small hole in his chest in shock. “Bloody hell.”
“You stupid bitch! You think you can do what you did and get away with it?” Warren stepped out of the bushes with a nine millimeter in his hand.
Buffy stared at Spike in horror, before slowly turning her head, her green eyes blazing and narrowed at the shooter.
“Warren. You’re such a coward. It’s pathetic, really, when you think about it,” Buffy quipped, eyes warily watching her ex-lover, lying against the fence. She knew that the bullet would not kill him, and at the moment, though she wanted to go to him, she knew that she had to focus on Warren.
“Shut up, you stupid bitch. I’m not a coward, I just don’t happened to be supernaturally blessed like some.”
“No, you aren’t, you just cheat your way to power. You really plan on shooting me with that, Warren? Do you really have the balls?” Buffy asked, her Slayer senses buzzing in alarm.
“Yeah, I think I do.” And with that, Warren lifted the nine millimeter to the level of Buffy’s chest.
He squeezed off a couple shots – and everything seemed to go in slow motion from that point. Spike’s eyes went wide in horror, and he leapt toward Buffy. Her eyes were wide with disbelief as a bullet tore through her stomach, burning past her intestines and out her back. Before the other bullet could hit her, Spike covered her body and shook as his body was riddled with more bullets. His neck went numb as a 9mm bullet tore the flesh away, along with splintered bits of bone. He shifted into his game face, his demon weakened by the injuries, but angry and defiant, even as both Spike and Buffy fell to the ground, exhausted, bodies weak and swiftly growing numb from the bullet wounds they had taken.
Warren walked up to the two of them, and shot Buffy through her chest. Her eyes closed, her body ready to shut down. Warren walked over to Spike and emptied the clip into his face, leaving his cheek torn, ragged, from the impact of the blast.
“No!” Dawn came running out of the house just then, with Tara just behind her.
Warren reloaded and took aim at them.
Two shots were fired.
Buffy’s eyes opened once more, and the last thing she saw was Dawn, falling to the grass, one hand clutched over a spot on her neck from which bright red blood ran freely.
Dying -- and Buffy could do nothing but join her.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Here's your update guys. Enjoy the greatness that is Dark Reflection. Just messing guys, or am I? Oh, and thanks alot DreamsofSpike as well as Dead Man Walking for having as much patience as you do with me. You're an awesome writer and an awesome beta.
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