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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks and hugs to my beta of this chappy Gillypod, you rock!
Phone calls and forgiveness

Buffy sat in the passenger seat of the Desoto staring into the darkness a heavy sigh slipping from her lips. A part of her wanted to melt into the darkness.

She envied those who could do just that, melt way from life, to never be seen again, becoming nothing but a distant memory for those who used to love you.

However, for Buffy there was this irritating voice screaming at her, telling her that she must move and get up out of the car.

A neon light blinked behind her. A motel six; somewhere off the highway between Hell and High water as far as she could tell.

Finally pulling herself out of the car, she smiled at the sight before her. Standing in the neon glow of purple and pink was the irritating voice, her salvation.

‘About bloody time you got out of the car, a vamp could turn to dust waiting on you slayer.’

‘ Shut up, Spike’ was her weak comeback as she followed him to their room.

They stood in the doorway surveying their room. It was small, dank; and had way too many health violations to be called livable. The lime green wallpaper was peeling and the carpet looked like it had been blue in a past life. The bathroom was well...Buffy had killed things less scary than that. It was crumbling around them. It epitomized them.

In a word, it was perfect.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy sat on the edge of the bed, the phone cradled in her small hands. She was studying it as if she had never seen a phone before; let alone used one. Spike leant on the wall across from her waiting.

“I don’t wanna”, she pouted.
Do it slayer” he gritted. She was such a child sometimes.
I can’t,” she almost cried.

His voice took on a softer more understanding tone “Yes. You can”

Her eyes welling with unshed tears and pleading with him to not make her do this. “But-” Her retort cut short.
“No Slayer. We’ve been through this already. Remember? You lost.”
She nodded her defeat.
“Your mum’s a good lady, she deserves to know that her daughter,” he pointed at her. “That’s you, is okay”
Buffy let out a shaky breath and then nervously dialed her number.

Click
Hello you have reached the Summers residence. Neither Buffy nor I are at home at the moment to take your call. So if you could please leave your name and number one of us will be sure to call you back
Beep
At the sound of her mothers’ voice Buffy’s stomach flipped, and her heart sank. Her own voice was small and fragile as she squeaked out her message.
“Um…Hi mum” her eyes found Spikes’ “I can’t” she whined.
“Just do it?” he growled back.

“It…It’s me Buffy. I’m just calling to let you know that I’m okay and I’m not in some ditch somewhere”, her eyes boring into Spikes. “And I’m not alone, so…don’t worry”
Click

Buffy hung the phone up, staring at it for a moment before the tears spilled down her face.

Hesitantly Spike moved to the bed, taking his place beside her. His arm snaked around her shoulder as he pulled her closer to him. All the while, he muttered words of comfort in her ear. Turning her to face him, he gently brushed her tears away with his thumb.

“I hate when a girl cries…specially a pretty one”

Buffy stared at Spike. He swallowed hard and pulled his hand back as though her skin burned him. Seeing the out they needed Buffy stood from the bed
‘I should y’know go for a shower. Thanks Spike.’

Buffy stood in the bathroom staring at her reflection in the cloudy mirror.
Her skin was pale; her eyes sunken, her hair limp, her usual vibrant smile gone. Her once bright green eyes stared back at her, dull and tormented.

It had been 14456 minutes since Buffy had left Sunnydale, since she fled her old life. Ten days of rest stop fast food. Two hundred and forty one hours without a shower, and ten nights without sleep for fear of what haunted her dreams now.
Her Angel.

Buffy stepped under the stream of water. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since she had the chance to indulge in the more mundane things of life. The water was hot, leaving red welts on her skin as it cut a path across her body. It stung her cuts and that was good. Physical pain was welcome, it took her thoughts away from her other pain.

Buffy slumped down in the shower, the rollercoaster of emotional and physical exhaustion had come to a screaming halt as the hot water washed away the slayer and left a lost little girl in her place.

Curling in on herself, she cried as the pain and guilt consumed her.
With her tears lost in the constant stream of water, she wept for her mother, her watcher, and her friends. She cried for Spike and Drusilla. Then she shed tears for her heart, finally allowing herself to start to mourn Angel.

Buffy sat in the shower until her tears dried up and the water ran cold. As a shiver ran along her spine she forced herself out, wrapping a soft towel around her broken body, she found comfort in its artificial warmth.
Staring into her reflection Buffy remembered something her mother once told her that when all tears had been cried, it was time to move on. With her mind filled with images of Angel she wondered briefly if that were true.

Spike paced about the confines of their room. He could hear her cries, smell her salty tears, and taste her pain. Part of him wanted to rejoice in the anguish that was flooding his senses. She deserved it he justified. It was her selfishness and the fool-hearted act of giving herself to Angelus that had them where they were now.

Alone and broken by those they loved.

Then the poet spoke for her. She was just a girl, one who had been handed a terrible fate; one he considered worse than death. With death came peace; something she would never know.

The slayer was a mere seventeen years old, not even legally able to drink. Yet here she was alone in a rattrap drowning in guilt that shouldn’t be hers.

Buffy opened the door to come face to face with Spike. She stared intently at him, conveying all her emotions with one look. Sadness from what she had lost. Self-loathing for what she had done.
Need; so desperate, she needed to feel, to be touched, to touch.
She needed to be forgiven.

Spike stopped his pacing and locked his eyes with hers. He could feel her emotions. He could taste it on the tip of his tongue. It rolled off her in a tidal wave of desperation and need. A few slow steps and, now he was mere inches away from Buffy. Her breath warm on his skin. Slowly he traced a finger over the soft swell of her lower lip.

Electricity sparking from his touch ran along her spine. Her heart fluttered in her chest, her breath caught. She smashed her mouth to his. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she struggled to get closer.

This kiss wasn’t like any other kiss; it wasn’t soft and sweet or tender and loving like those she shared with Angel. It contained all of her emotions that she had not allowed herself feel; hate, resentment, desperation, frantic violence, intense sorrow, torment, rage, bitterness, loathing and passion.

Spike ripped at her clothes tearing them from her body. No time for subtlety. He needed this as much as she did.

He needed to forgive.

Spike stood at the foot of the bed pausing a moment to drink in the sight before him. Buffy, lay out before him, her naked vulnerable form shivered under his hungry gaze.

Taking no longer than a second, his body was free of clothes and he was resting between her legs. He paused at her entrance, looking to her for an unspoken answer. She gave one nod of her head.

His question answered, he violently thrust deep into her. He spared her no pain. Relentlessly his dick invaded her un-abused body, stretching her, filling her completely. His nostrils flared and his eyes closed as the aroma of her blood filled his senses.

At his impulsion into her body, she gasped; a pain shot through her aching womb. The unfamiliar pain consumed her and tears fell freely from her jaded eyes, spilling on to the sheets.
She needed the pain.

The smells permeating the air were delicious. Spikes demon rejoiced in the pain that was rolling off her in waves, as her tears fell freely. He drove deeper into her, pushing her body a little closer to the edge with each thrust.
Her body marred with almost instant bruises from where their bodies met. Blood welled to the surface from where he dug into her, clawing for a tighter hold.

He was punishing her.
She wanted to be punished.

Before long, her pain made way for another sensation. Listening to his body and obeying hers, she lifted her hips in time with his, letting him push deeper into her heat. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she dug her ankles into his hips, urging him to go harder, deeper.

Her nails clawed at the skin on his shoulders leaving tiny trails of blood running along the pallid color of his skin. As one ran down his arm, she licked it up shuddering as the copper taste coated her tongue, teasing her taste buds.

The sensation building in her womb increased as her orgasm neared. Her body bucked violently against his and the soft walls of her pussy clenched around his thrusting cock begging him to go faster.

When the tang of his blood mingling with hers hit him and as her body trembled around his in orgasm, it all became too much for him. His eyes rolled back and his face contorted bringing forth his demon as he came in a roar. Spike buried his fangs in her neck drinking greedily.

When he sunk his fangs into her neck Buffy’s body shook as another orgasm ripped through her. When her cloudy mind registered what he was doing, she pulled him closer, holding him tighter to her.

He was the holder of her salvation and now here he was giving it to her.

Death. Eternal rest. Peace.

She wanted it she welcomed it.

As the richness of her blood coated his tongue, he drowned in her. She was everything he was not.

Where he was darkness and death, she was life and light so bright and pure it was blinding. Where his only purpose on this Earth was to prey on the innocent, she was deliverance to those he stole in the darkness of night.

He tasted the girl and the slayer. She was power; it was ancient, older than time its self if possible.
Innocence tainted with wisdom and loss.
Guilt; she hated herself for who she was and what she was capable of.
Love; she loved with every fiber of her being. It was in every cell of her screaming body.

She was everything he was supposed to fear. She was his natural enemy. He was what she hunted, what she lived to kill.

Yet here she was wrapped in the arms of what she hated, holding on to him as if he was her savior.

He could taste her want.

She had a death wish and he was her executioner.

As the reality hit him that he was about to snub out her life light forever his demon recoiled in horror. This creature beneath him was his equal, not some meal. She was destined for greatness.

She was meant for him.

With gentleness that he hadn’t shown her body, he slowly pulled his fangs from her neck. Spike raised himself off her body to gaze at what was lying beneath him, so he could take a moment to appreciate the wonderful mess he had created He tilted his head slightly to the side as he took his moment.
He found a morbid magnificence in the savage tear in her throat, and the contrast of bright red blood staining the pale color of her skin.

He likened the purpling of bruises on her tiny frame to a canvas of artwork. The green of her eyes framed with red-rimmed lashes reminded him of Christmases filled with holly and bloodshed.

She was beautiful and broken all at once. A shuddering breath escaped his bloodstained lips, a small almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. His demon was satisfied with the vengeance he had dealt out to her.

Now it was time for forgiveness.

Foreheads pressed together, desperate green eyes boring into golden eyes, a breath between them. Neither of them daring to question what had just happened. Knowing silence; the only answer they were seeking.

He had forgiven her.
He had saved her.





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