Unsuffer Me- Part II
On we go. Cross-posted to seven_seasons once again.
Previous parts can be found here.
Part II: Dancing
Buffy had known for a while that there was probably something really wrong with her. After all, here she was in L.A., far from friends and family, not informing them about where she was, or even if she was alive. She was a Slayer who wasn’t performing her sacred duty, walking through her days like a sleepwalker, and dreaming of her dead vampire boyfriend every night.
The boyfriend she’d sent to hell on the end of her sword.
If that wasn’t bad enough, she was beginning to feel an actual spark of pleasure every time she saw Spike, the first real pleasure she’d felt since killing Angel.
She was definitely certifiable.
Spike had come in every evening she’d worked for the past five days, always ordering coffee, always leaving more than enough money to cover his bill. They didn’t say much to one another, but she knew he watched her, and she knew he looked dangerous.
Buffy also knew that she hadn’t received any inappropriate propositions while he’d been around, and for that alone she probably would have been grateful.
It galled her, too. To be pleased to see Spike, to be grateful for his presence, it went against the grain.
She got the feeling that tonight was different. Spike’s expression was anticipatory, as though he was waiting for something. Buffy decided not to give him the satisfaction of inquiring-that would mean revealing how closely she was watching him.
And there was no way she was going to do that.
Buffy finished out her shift the way she always did, clearing off tables and counting up receipts. Her tips had been really good for once, thanks to Spike and a couple of regulars who had been feeling extra generous. It meant that she might be able to afford a few of the things that had become luxuries-like a slice of pizza and a soda at the mall.
On her way home, Buffy knew that she was being followed, and she stayed alert for trouble, not wanting to deal with it unless absolutely necessary. If it was a vampire, she’d be safe once inside her apartment.
She was inside her apartment before a voice called out to her. “Summers.”
“What do you want, Spike?”
He took his time walking down the hallway until he was standing in front of her. Even though the wall separating them couldn’t be seen, Buffy knew it was very real. “You going to invite me inside?”
~~~~~
“Come in, Spike.”
He hadn’t expected her to invite him inside. Spike had, in fact, assumed that she would shut the door in his face. Wavering on the threshold, he considered walking away and abandoning his plan.
This felt too big, too important, and it shouldn’t have. It shouldn’t have mattered at all.
They stared at each other, and he watched the emotions flash across her face; he had been studying her for months now, if you counted the time spent in Sunnydale, but he couldn’t read her now. He had no idea what she was thinking, what she wanted.
But he knew that to not step inside would be an act of cowardice, and he was no coward.
Once he was inside, Buffy shut the door behind him, and they faced each other once again.
“What do you want?”
Spike realized that he didn’t know, but that wasn’t an answer. “Thought I’d find out what happened.” It was mostly true; he did want to know what had happened.
“What do you think?” she demanded, although she sounded more weary than upset. “Angel opened Acathla, and I killed him to prevent the world from getting sucked into hell.”
He shrugged. “Figured, but I didn’t want to assume.”
“Well, now you know. Why aren’t you with your girlfriend?”
“She left me.” He didn’t want to go into details. It wouldn’t do to give her the satisfaction of knowing that Dru had abandoned him because of Buffy. “Cheated on me with a soddin’ fungus demon.”
“I’m sorry.”
Their eyes met, and Spike found that he didn’t know what he wanted to say; he didn’t even know what he wanted anymore. “Yeah, well…” He trailed off, at a loss for words. Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, Spike stared at the toes of his boots, angry that she’d put him in this position, angry at the entire world.
He looked up, eyes blazing. “Sod this,” he growled.
Spike was fairly certain that his attack came as something of a surprise, not least because he was waging war with his tongue and lips, rather than fists and feet. Buffy froze for the second it took him to shove his tongue in her mouth roughly.
In the next moment, he found himself flat on the floor, Buffy standing over him, her eyes glittering with rage. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Spike pushed himself up off the floor. “What? Have you forgotten what kissing is like? Or maybe you just never got a taste of a real man.”
“Bastard.” The word came out in an explosive breath, and she flew at him, one fist catching him across a cheekbone before Spike could fend her off.
There wasn’t a lot of room, so their impromptu wrestling match was confined to a small area. Spike managed to return the favor, hitting her with a force that was sure to leave a bruise across her jawline.
He wasn’t sure whether to be surprised or disappointed when he wound up on top, Buffy’s arms trapped between their bodies. “Get off.”
Her eyes were still blazing, but she looked truly alive for the first time since he’d run into her again. Hell, he felt alive for the first time since she’d dropped that bloody organ on him. Buffy’s cheeks were flushed, her chest heaving as she fought for air against the weight of his body on top of hers, when Spike realized that he was growing hard.
Buffy must have realized it too, because her eyes grew wide, just before Spike pressed his lips to hers again.
~~~~~
His lips were cold, as Angel’s had been. Buffy had been kissed by human guys before, of course. There had been Pike in L.A., before she’d ever heard of the Hellmouth, and there had been another whose name she’d forgotten.
Strange to think that she’d kissed-or been kissed by-as many vampires as humans. What did that say about her?
Not that she’d invited Spike’s kiss, but Buffy realized that there was a part of her that was enjoying it. Trapped beneath him, she probably could have fought her way free. Even as she parted her lips, inviting Spike to deepen the kiss, she thought of how she could end it. She could probably get a leg free to knee him in the groin, or she could bite his tongue. He was loosening his grip on her hands, and she could probably shove him off, poke him in the eye…
The list went on, long enough so that she knew the longer he remained on top of her, the longer she allowed this to go on, the harder it would be to convince herself later that she hadn’t wanted it.
However it had started, Buffy knew that she felt good; she felt alive for the first time in months.
Spike released her hands, and Buffy took the opportunity to flip them so that their positions were reversed. She straddled his hips and reached for the stake she knew was tucked away at the small of her back.
She saw the surprise on his face just before it was replaced with resignation. “Go on, then,” he said as she rested the point of the stake just above his heart, against the thin fabric of his t-shirt.
It would be so easy, she thought. Buffy knew she could do her duty and kill him, that she should. She could see the same death wish in his eyes that was likely in hers, and Buffy knew that she’d already fucked up. She’d already betrayed her sacred duty by running away from the Hellmouth-and before that by sleeping with a vampire. What was one more sin to add to the list?
The stake clattered to the floor, and Buffy pushed Spike’s shoulders to the floor, holding him there as she kissed him again, biting his lower lip.
His growl shook her to her core, and she shuddered with need.
This encounter was far different from the one with Angel. He had been gentle, tentative, passionate. She had been uncertain and scared.
Spike was rough, his hands and fingers digging in, leaving bruises behind. Buffy matched his ferocity with her own, however, taking out months of grief and loneliness on the vampire she hated and should not trust-and yet somehow did.
This was not lovemaking-this was fucking at its finest. Buffy had had no idea how intimately pain and pleasure could be intertwined.
She was a little surprised when Spike made sure she came after he had. Buffy had half-expected him to roll off and walk out when he was done with his pleasure.
Instead, they both lay there. She was panting, he was still as stone. Buffy stayed silent, wondering if he would say something about her experience-or lack thereof. She expected him to be cruel, as Angel had been after he’d lost his soul.
Spike was silent, however, until he remarked, “This place is a shit hole, Slayer.”
Buffy felt oddly relieved. “But it’s cheap.”
“Yeah. Reckon you don’t make much at that diner.”
“More recently.”
“Don’t. Just don’t say it.”
“Say what?”
“Dunno. Whatever you were going to say.”
Buffy finally felt as though she had her breath back. “I’m going to get cleaned up,” she announced.
“Suit yourself. Mind if I smoke?”
She hesitated, wondering if she did or not, wondering if she should. “Just do it by the window, okay?”
Buffy didn’t wait for his agreement, instead heading to the tiny bathroom, no bigger than a closet. At least it had a bathroom; she’d seen apartments where she would have had to share with the floor.
She took her time in the bathroom, washing away all traces of Spike, knowing full well that water wouldn’t change the truth of what she’d done.
But when she came out of the bathroom, fully prepared to kick Spike out if he was still there, Buffy found herself strangely disappointed that he was already gone.
Previous parts can be found here.
Part II: Dancing
Buffy had known for a while that there was probably something really wrong with her. After all, here she was in L.A., far from friends and family, not informing them about where she was, or even if she was alive. She was a Slayer who wasn’t performing her sacred duty, walking through her days like a sleepwalker, and dreaming of her dead vampire boyfriend every night.
The boyfriend she’d sent to hell on the end of her sword.
If that wasn’t bad enough, she was beginning to feel an actual spark of pleasure every time she saw Spike, the first real pleasure she’d felt since killing Angel.
She was definitely certifiable.
Spike had come in every evening she’d worked for the past five days, always ordering coffee, always leaving more than enough money to cover his bill. They didn’t say much to one another, but she knew he watched her, and she knew he looked dangerous.
Buffy also knew that she hadn’t received any inappropriate propositions while he’d been around, and for that alone she probably would have been grateful.
It galled her, too. To be pleased to see Spike, to be grateful for his presence, it went against the grain.
She got the feeling that tonight was different. Spike’s expression was anticipatory, as though he was waiting for something. Buffy decided not to give him the satisfaction of inquiring-that would mean revealing how closely she was watching him.
And there was no way she was going to do that.
Buffy finished out her shift the way she always did, clearing off tables and counting up receipts. Her tips had been really good for once, thanks to Spike and a couple of regulars who had been feeling extra generous. It meant that she might be able to afford a few of the things that had become luxuries-like a slice of pizza and a soda at the mall.
On her way home, Buffy knew that she was being followed, and she stayed alert for trouble, not wanting to deal with it unless absolutely necessary. If it was a vampire, she’d be safe once inside her apartment.
She was inside her apartment before a voice called out to her. “Summers.”
“What do you want, Spike?”
He took his time walking down the hallway until he was standing in front of her. Even though the wall separating them couldn’t be seen, Buffy knew it was very real. “You going to invite me inside?”
~~~~~
“Come in, Spike.”
He hadn’t expected her to invite him inside. Spike had, in fact, assumed that she would shut the door in his face. Wavering on the threshold, he considered walking away and abandoning his plan.
This felt too big, too important, and it shouldn’t have. It shouldn’t have mattered at all.
They stared at each other, and he watched the emotions flash across her face; he had been studying her for months now, if you counted the time spent in Sunnydale, but he couldn’t read her now. He had no idea what she was thinking, what she wanted.
But he knew that to not step inside would be an act of cowardice, and he was no coward.
Once he was inside, Buffy shut the door behind him, and they faced each other once again.
“What do you want?”
Spike realized that he didn’t know, but that wasn’t an answer. “Thought I’d find out what happened.” It was mostly true; he did want to know what had happened.
“What do you think?” she demanded, although she sounded more weary than upset. “Angel opened Acathla, and I killed him to prevent the world from getting sucked into hell.”
He shrugged. “Figured, but I didn’t want to assume.”
“Well, now you know. Why aren’t you with your girlfriend?”
“She left me.” He didn’t want to go into details. It wouldn’t do to give her the satisfaction of knowing that Dru had abandoned him because of Buffy. “Cheated on me with a soddin’ fungus demon.”
“I’m sorry.”
Their eyes met, and Spike found that he didn’t know what he wanted to say; he didn’t even know what he wanted anymore. “Yeah, well…” He trailed off, at a loss for words. Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, Spike stared at the toes of his boots, angry that she’d put him in this position, angry at the entire world.
He looked up, eyes blazing. “Sod this,” he growled.
Spike was fairly certain that his attack came as something of a surprise, not least because he was waging war with his tongue and lips, rather than fists and feet. Buffy froze for the second it took him to shove his tongue in her mouth roughly.
In the next moment, he found himself flat on the floor, Buffy standing over him, her eyes glittering with rage. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Spike pushed himself up off the floor. “What? Have you forgotten what kissing is like? Or maybe you just never got a taste of a real man.”
“Bastard.” The word came out in an explosive breath, and she flew at him, one fist catching him across a cheekbone before Spike could fend her off.
There wasn’t a lot of room, so their impromptu wrestling match was confined to a small area. Spike managed to return the favor, hitting her with a force that was sure to leave a bruise across her jawline.
He wasn’t sure whether to be surprised or disappointed when he wound up on top, Buffy’s arms trapped between their bodies. “Get off.”
Her eyes were still blazing, but she looked truly alive for the first time since he’d run into her again. Hell, he felt alive for the first time since she’d dropped that bloody organ on him. Buffy’s cheeks were flushed, her chest heaving as she fought for air against the weight of his body on top of hers, when Spike realized that he was growing hard.
Buffy must have realized it too, because her eyes grew wide, just before Spike pressed his lips to hers again.
~~~~~
His lips were cold, as Angel’s had been. Buffy had been kissed by human guys before, of course. There had been Pike in L.A., before she’d ever heard of the Hellmouth, and there had been another whose name she’d forgotten.
Strange to think that she’d kissed-or been kissed by-as many vampires as humans. What did that say about her?
Not that she’d invited Spike’s kiss, but Buffy realized that there was a part of her that was enjoying it. Trapped beneath him, she probably could have fought her way free. Even as she parted her lips, inviting Spike to deepen the kiss, she thought of how she could end it. She could probably get a leg free to knee him in the groin, or she could bite his tongue. He was loosening his grip on her hands, and she could probably shove him off, poke him in the eye…
The list went on, long enough so that she knew the longer he remained on top of her, the longer she allowed this to go on, the harder it would be to convince herself later that she hadn’t wanted it.
However it had started, Buffy knew that she felt good; she felt alive for the first time in months.
Spike released her hands, and Buffy took the opportunity to flip them so that their positions were reversed. She straddled his hips and reached for the stake she knew was tucked away at the small of her back.
She saw the surprise on his face just before it was replaced with resignation. “Go on, then,” he said as she rested the point of the stake just above his heart, against the thin fabric of his t-shirt.
It would be so easy, she thought. Buffy knew she could do her duty and kill him, that she should. She could see the same death wish in his eyes that was likely in hers, and Buffy knew that she’d already fucked up. She’d already betrayed her sacred duty by running away from the Hellmouth-and before that by sleeping with a vampire. What was one more sin to add to the list?
The stake clattered to the floor, and Buffy pushed Spike’s shoulders to the floor, holding him there as she kissed him again, biting his lower lip.
His growl shook her to her core, and she shuddered with need.
This encounter was far different from the one with Angel. He had been gentle, tentative, passionate. She had been uncertain and scared.
Spike was rough, his hands and fingers digging in, leaving bruises behind. Buffy matched his ferocity with her own, however, taking out months of grief and loneliness on the vampire she hated and should not trust-and yet somehow did.
This was not lovemaking-this was fucking at its finest. Buffy had had no idea how intimately pain and pleasure could be intertwined.
She was a little surprised when Spike made sure she came after he had. Buffy had half-expected him to roll off and walk out when he was done with his pleasure.
Instead, they both lay there. She was panting, he was still as stone. Buffy stayed silent, wondering if he would say something about her experience-or lack thereof. She expected him to be cruel, as Angel had been after he’d lost his soul.
Spike was silent, however, until he remarked, “This place is a shit hole, Slayer.”
Buffy felt oddly relieved. “But it’s cheap.”
“Yeah. Reckon you don’t make much at that diner.”
“More recently.”
“Don’t. Just don’t say it.”
“Say what?”
“Dunno. Whatever you were going to say.”
Buffy finally felt as though she had her breath back. “I’m going to get cleaned up,” she announced.
“Suit yourself. Mind if I smoke?”
She hesitated, wondering if she did or not, wondering if she should. “Just do it by the window, okay?”
Buffy didn’t wait for his agreement, instead heading to the tiny bathroom, no bigger than a closet. At least it had a bathroom; she’d seen apartments where she would have had to share with the floor.
She took her time in the bathroom, washing away all traces of Spike, knowing full well that water wouldn’t change the truth of what she’d done.
But when she came out of the bathroom, fully prepared to kick Spike out if he was still there, Buffy found herself strangely disappointed that he was already gone.