(no subject)
Title: You Know You Want To Dance
Chapter: 3
Previous parts: Part 1 and Part 2
Previously: the story began with a twist to the end of “Fool For Love”. After an evening filled with sexual tension, Spike and Buffy had an encounter in her garden, leaving her disgusted with herself. Later, weighed down with guilt because she’d cheated on Riley and worn out with fear for her mother’s health, she succumbed to temptation again, having sex with Spike against a tomb, before running off into the night.
Brief summary: a darkly erotic twist on the events of Fool For Love and spinning off into an angstily Spuffy season 5.
Rating: UK 18/US NC-17
Warnings: bad language and sexual content, angst
Word count: 1800
Author’s note: this particular chapter is inspired by the prompt at tamingthemuse - mens rea (guilty mind).
Thanks to: nemo_88 for the banner.
Buffy stared into the mirror. Normally she hated the lighting in the bathroom. So unflattering. It was like the lights in changing rooms in clothes stores - clearly designed by some sadistic person who liked to make girls feel fat. But today she liked the way her reflection looked. She could see every line in her face, every tiny blemish, the circles under her eyes turned by the neon light into dark holes.
“You are disgusting,” she said quietly. Her tears had dried up an hour or so ago; now she felt strangely hollow, except for a dull, sick ache in her stomach.
How had she let this happen? The first time she’d… with Spike… Well, maybe she could forgive herself for that. It was gross and wrong, but she’d been upset, and everyone made mistakes, right? But this… was obscene. She’d done it again, and she’d liked it. She was a monster, nearly as much as Spike was. Maybe worse. After all, he didn’t have a soul. He was expected to do bad things. But she was a human. The Slayer. She was meant to uphold good!
Downstairs the front door clicked shut.
“Buffy?” Dawn’s voice called. Buffy started. Why was Dawn home already? She was meant to be spending the night with Willow. She hurried down the stairs.
“Dawn, why are you home? Is everything ok? Where’s Willow?”
“Buffy, it’s eight o’clock,” said Dawn, looking at her sister strangely. “Willow’s in the car with Xander. They’re driving us to the hospital, remember?”
Buffy rubbed her hand against her forehead. Had she really been sitting in the bathroom all night? Things were a blur. After… She’d come home and showered for a long time. She felt raw between her legs because she’d washed so hard. Anything to get rid of the memory of what he’d done. What she’d let him do. Then she’d cried for a while. A long time, probably. With Dawn out of the house and her mom in hospital, it was the first time she had really let herself cry loudly. Somehow that had managed to eat up the whole night. Buffy felt suddenly and completely exhausted, but her mom would be going in to theatre soon and she wanted to see her first. So she smiled weakly at Dawn and they headed out into the bright sunlight.
*
Spike prowled around his crypt restlessly. A thin beam of sunlight pooled under the door. Not for the first time he considered grabbing his blanket and making a dash for it. He’d managed to get to the Summers house without exploding into flame before. He’d sizzled a little, yeah, but that was alright. He put his hand onto the blanket and then stopped, and ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh.
As soon as Buffy had run off and left Spike with his cock hanging out of his jeans, he’d thought about how he could have done things differently. Not that he regretted the sex, cos it had been bloody brilliant, but it hadn’t exactly been tender. A quickie from behind in a graveyard - to be honest, it ticked quite a lot of boxes for him, but he wished he’d talked to her more. Undressed her, stroked her hair. Christ, he hadn’t even told her he loved her! God knew what she thought this had meant to him. Maybe she thought he just wanted to shag a slayer, fill up his dance card a bit, and yeah, he’d admit it, there was a certain kudos to be had from having fiddled with the Chosen One, but that was only a tiny fraction of the reason he wanted her. After Dru, he’d thought he’d never love anyone again, but he’d been wrong. Buffy was all he thought about, and it drove him mental and hurt like billy-oh and it made him feel like he was alive, all at once. And she didn’t know. He needed to tell her. Once again he grabbed at the blanket, but hesitated. He remembered Joyce was having her op today. Better to see Buffy in the evening, when she would either be a bit more cheerful, or in need of comfort.
Spike sank onto the sofa, settling in for the long wait until sunset.
*
It was a tumour.
Buffy could barely listen to what Dr Isaacs said. All she could hear was tumourtumourtumour, the word drumming through her head. One in three patients does just fine. One in three. One in three. Ohgodohgodohgod.
Riley came over and put his hand on Buffy’s shoulder. She flinched involuntarily, not seeing the flicker of unhappiness in his eyes. Then she sighed and leaned against him, letting him hug her. His arms were strong and they should have been comforting, but all Buffy could think about was those words. Tumour. One in three.
“It’s ok, Buffy,” Riley said. “It’ll be ok.” He patted her back gently as she made a soft choking sound. “You can let it out, you know. I love you. I’m here.”
Buffy drew back. She could feel tears prickling at the back of her eyes, and not just for her mom. She couldn’t believe what she’d done to Riley. Poor brave, dependable Riley, who only wanted her to love him, and she couldn’t. Maybe something in her had broken when Angel left. Maybe she couldn’t fall in love. But she cared for Riley, and she hated that she couldn’t give him what he needed.
“I-I can’t,” she said. “Not now. Not here.” She passed a hand across her eyes quickly. “I’ll… need to talk to Dawn.” She searched for something for Riley to do. “Could you call the Magic Box? Tell the others? It would be a big help.” She saw him straighten up a little and her heart gave a dull pang.
*
Riley drove Buffy home. It had been a long day at the hospital. Dawn had cried a lot. Her eyes had still been puffy when they had gone in to see Joyce. Buffy, meanwhile, smiled calmly and stroked her mother’s hand. Being the adult, like she was supposed to. Afterwards, Dawn had begged to stay over at Janice’s.
“Don’t you think we should have family time?” asked Buffy, wrinkling her forehead. Dawn thought about what that would mean. A burger bought from Doublemeat Palace, because Buffy’s cooking sucked, and Buffy snapping at her to do her homework with that strange, painful expression she had been wearing lately. Like she was stretched thin across her bones, and that if someone pushed her too hard she would shatter. Then being sent to bed and sitting in the dark listening to Buffy pace up and down in the kitchen.
“Please, Buffy,” said Dawn, her voice pleading, and so Buffy had nodded once, tiredly, and she and Riley dropped Dawn off on their way back. Now Riley had parked in front of her house, and asked if he could come in.
“No,” she said, and regretted at once how brusque that sounded. “I’m really tired. I’m sorry. I think I just want to sleep.” He nodded and tried not to look disappointed. She kissed him lightly and stepped out of the car.
In her room she sat down heavily on the bed, kicking her shoes across the floor. There was a hard, painful lump in the middle of her chest, and maybe if she could force herself to cry it would melt, but her eyes were dry as sand.
“’Lo, pet,” said a low voice from the doorway.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she said, not bothering to look over, and though her words were defiant her tone was merely tired.
“Rough day at the hospital?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. She looked over at him at last, and felt disgusted as an involuntary ripple of desire passed through her. How could she want him - want anything - after hearing about her mom? Tumour. One in three.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said coldly, and Spike came over and sat on the bed next to her. “Why don’t you just leave me alone?”
“Can’t do that, pet,” he said, agreeably enough. “Because I love you.”
Her heart jerked painfully, and she looked him full in the face. His expression was a mixture of fear and hope. She turned her head away.
“You don’t love me,” she said, her tone one of dull contempt.
“Why not?” he said, annoyance flaring in him.
“You’re a monster,” she said quietly, turning her head slowly to look at him. “You can’t feel anything,” she continued mechanically. “You’re just -”
“Felt one or two things well enough,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her and putting his hand on her thigh. She flinched but didn’t move his hand away.
“You’re a monster,” she said weakly as he leaned in to kiss her, his lips brushing hers. “A monster, a monster…” she whispered between kisses as she slid her arms around his neck.
“Buffy,” he said raggedly, “I love-”
She shook her head.
“Don’t. Don’t talk. Don’t kiss me. Just do it,” she said, unbuttoning her shirt.
Buffy lay back on the bed, arms by her sides, completely pliant. Spike unzipped her jeans and pulled them off along with her knickers. Still she lay unmoving. Spike pulled off his clothes and positioned himself on top of her, ready to enter her in the way she seemed to want, and then he noticed the small, solitary tear snaking its way from the corner of her eye to her earlobe.
Spike rolled off her and sat up.
“I thought you wanted to do it,” Buffy said dully, still staring up at the ceiling.
“Can’t shag a girl who’s crying,” he said tersely. “That might have been alright by Angelus, but I-” He stopped and stood up, pulling on his clothes. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
Buffy shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about her mom. She didn’t want to talk about anything at all.
“D’you want me to go?” said Spike after a little while, his tone softer than before. Buffy didn’t say anything. Spike decided to take that as a no; he reckoned he wouldn’t be getting any more encouragement from her. So he lay down on the bed next to her, lying an arm across her stomach. She didn’t move into his embrace, but she didn’t move away from him either. And so they lay, Buffy staring at the ceiling as Spike gazed at her face, until at last she fell asleep. Then Spike covered her naked body with a blanket and sat by the window smoking until the thin hour before dawn.
Chapter: 3
Previous parts: Part 1 and Part 2
Previously: the story began with a twist to the end of “Fool For Love”. After an evening filled with sexual tension, Spike and Buffy had an encounter in her garden, leaving her disgusted with herself. Later, weighed down with guilt because she’d cheated on Riley and worn out with fear for her mother’s health, she succumbed to temptation again, having sex with Spike against a tomb, before running off into the night.
Brief summary: a darkly erotic twist on the events of Fool For Love and spinning off into an angstily Spuffy season 5.
Rating: UK 18/US NC-17
Warnings: bad language and sexual content, angst
Word count: 1800
Author’s note: this particular chapter is inspired by the prompt at tamingthemuse - mens rea (guilty mind).
Thanks to: nemo_88 for the banner.
Buffy stared into the mirror. Normally she hated the lighting in the bathroom. So unflattering. It was like the lights in changing rooms in clothes stores - clearly designed by some sadistic person who liked to make girls feel fat. But today she liked the way her reflection looked. She could see every line in her face, every tiny blemish, the circles under her eyes turned by the neon light into dark holes.
“You are disgusting,” she said quietly. Her tears had dried up an hour or so ago; now she felt strangely hollow, except for a dull, sick ache in her stomach.
How had she let this happen? The first time she’d… with Spike… Well, maybe she could forgive herself for that. It was gross and wrong, but she’d been upset, and everyone made mistakes, right? But this… was obscene. She’d done it again, and she’d liked it. She was a monster, nearly as much as Spike was. Maybe worse. After all, he didn’t have a soul. He was expected to do bad things. But she was a human. The Slayer. She was meant to uphold good!
Downstairs the front door clicked shut.
“Buffy?” Dawn’s voice called. Buffy started. Why was Dawn home already? She was meant to be spending the night with Willow. She hurried down the stairs.
“Dawn, why are you home? Is everything ok? Where’s Willow?”
“Buffy, it’s eight o’clock,” said Dawn, looking at her sister strangely. “Willow’s in the car with Xander. They’re driving us to the hospital, remember?”
Buffy rubbed her hand against her forehead. Had she really been sitting in the bathroom all night? Things were a blur. After… She’d come home and showered for a long time. She felt raw between her legs because she’d washed so hard. Anything to get rid of the memory of what he’d done. What she’d let him do. Then she’d cried for a while. A long time, probably. With Dawn out of the house and her mom in hospital, it was the first time she had really let herself cry loudly. Somehow that had managed to eat up the whole night. Buffy felt suddenly and completely exhausted, but her mom would be going in to theatre soon and she wanted to see her first. So she smiled weakly at Dawn and they headed out into the bright sunlight.
*
Spike prowled around his crypt restlessly. A thin beam of sunlight pooled under the door. Not for the first time he considered grabbing his blanket and making a dash for it. He’d managed to get to the Summers house without exploding into flame before. He’d sizzled a little, yeah, but that was alright. He put his hand onto the blanket and then stopped, and ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh.
As soon as Buffy had run off and left Spike with his cock hanging out of his jeans, he’d thought about how he could have done things differently. Not that he regretted the sex, cos it had been bloody brilliant, but it hadn’t exactly been tender. A quickie from behind in a graveyard - to be honest, it ticked quite a lot of boxes for him, but he wished he’d talked to her more. Undressed her, stroked her hair. Christ, he hadn’t even told her he loved her! God knew what she thought this had meant to him. Maybe she thought he just wanted to shag a slayer, fill up his dance card a bit, and yeah, he’d admit it, there was a certain kudos to be had from having fiddled with the Chosen One, but that was only a tiny fraction of the reason he wanted her. After Dru, he’d thought he’d never love anyone again, but he’d been wrong. Buffy was all he thought about, and it drove him mental and hurt like billy-oh and it made him feel like he was alive, all at once. And she didn’t know. He needed to tell her. Once again he grabbed at the blanket, but hesitated. He remembered Joyce was having her op today. Better to see Buffy in the evening, when she would either be a bit more cheerful, or in need of comfort.
Spike sank onto the sofa, settling in for the long wait until sunset.
*
It was a tumour.
Buffy could barely listen to what Dr Isaacs said. All she could hear was tumourtumourtumour, the word drumming through her head. One in three patients does just fine. One in three. One in three. Ohgodohgodohgod.
Riley came over and put his hand on Buffy’s shoulder. She flinched involuntarily, not seeing the flicker of unhappiness in his eyes. Then she sighed and leaned against him, letting him hug her. His arms were strong and they should have been comforting, but all Buffy could think about was those words. Tumour. One in three.
“It’s ok, Buffy,” Riley said. “It’ll be ok.” He patted her back gently as she made a soft choking sound. “You can let it out, you know. I love you. I’m here.”
Buffy drew back. She could feel tears prickling at the back of her eyes, and not just for her mom. She couldn’t believe what she’d done to Riley. Poor brave, dependable Riley, who only wanted her to love him, and she couldn’t. Maybe something in her had broken when Angel left. Maybe she couldn’t fall in love. But she cared for Riley, and she hated that she couldn’t give him what he needed.
“I-I can’t,” she said. “Not now. Not here.” She passed a hand across her eyes quickly. “I’ll… need to talk to Dawn.” She searched for something for Riley to do. “Could you call the Magic Box? Tell the others? It would be a big help.” She saw him straighten up a little and her heart gave a dull pang.
*
Riley drove Buffy home. It had been a long day at the hospital. Dawn had cried a lot. Her eyes had still been puffy when they had gone in to see Joyce. Buffy, meanwhile, smiled calmly and stroked her mother’s hand. Being the adult, like she was supposed to. Afterwards, Dawn had begged to stay over at Janice’s.
“Don’t you think we should have family time?” asked Buffy, wrinkling her forehead. Dawn thought about what that would mean. A burger bought from Doublemeat Palace, because Buffy’s cooking sucked, and Buffy snapping at her to do her homework with that strange, painful expression she had been wearing lately. Like she was stretched thin across her bones, and that if someone pushed her too hard she would shatter. Then being sent to bed and sitting in the dark listening to Buffy pace up and down in the kitchen.
“Please, Buffy,” said Dawn, her voice pleading, and so Buffy had nodded once, tiredly, and she and Riley dropped Dawn off on their way back. Now Riley had parked in front of her house, and asked if he could come in.
“No,” she said, and regretted at once how brusque that sounded. “I’m really tired. I’m sorry. I think I just want to sleep.” He nodded and tried not to look disappointed. She kissed him lightly and stepped out of the car.
In her room she sat down heavily on the bed, kicking her shoes across the floor. There was a hard, painful lump in the middle of her chest, and maybe if she could force herself to cry it would melt, but her eyes were dry as sand.
“’Lo, pet,” said a low voice from the doorway.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she said, not bothering to look over, and though her words were defiant her tone was merely tired.
“Rough day at the hospital?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. She looked over at him at last, and felt disgusted as an involuntary ripple of desire passed through her. How could she want him - want anything - after hearing about her mom? Tumour. One in three.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said coldly, and Spike came over and sat on the bed next to her. “Why don’t you just leave me alone?”
“Can’t do that, pet,” he said, agreeably enough. “Because I love you.”
Her heart jerked painfully, and she looked him full in the face. His expression was a mixture of fear and hope. She turned her head away.
“You don’t love me,” she said, her tone one of dull contempt.
“Why not?” he said, annoyance flaring in him.
“You’re a monster,” she said quietly, turning her head slowly to look at him. “You can’t feel anything,” she continued mechanically. “You’re just -”
“Felt one or two things well enough,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her and putting his hand on her thigh. She flinched but didn’t move his hand away.
“You’re a monster,” she said weakly as he leaned in to kiss her, his lips brushing hers. “A monster, a monster…” she whispered between kisses as she slid her arms around his neck.
“Buffy,” he said raggedly, “I love-”
She shook her head.
“Don’t. Don’t talk. Don’t kiss me. Just do it,” she said, unbuttoning her shirt.
Buffy lay back on the bed, arms by her sides, completely pliant. Spike unzipped her jeans and pulled them off along with her knickers. Still she lay unmoving. Spike pulled off his clothes and positioned himself on top of her, ready to enter her in the way she seemed to want, and then he noticed the small, solitary tear snaking its way from the corner of her eye to her earlobe.
Spike rolled off her and sat up.
“I thought you wanted to do it,” Buffy said dully, still staring up at the ceiling.
“Can’t shag a girl who’s crying,” he said tersely. “That might have been alright by Angelus, but I-” He stopped and stood up, pulling on his clothes. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
Buffy shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about her mom. She didn’t want to talk about anything at all.
“D’you want me to go?” said Spike after a little while, his tone softer than before. Buffy didn’t say anything. Spike decided to take that as a no; he reckoned he wouldn’t be getting any more encouragement from her. So he lay down on the bed next to her, lying an arm across her stomach. She didn’t move into his embrace, but she didn’t move away from him either. And so they lay, Buffy staring at the ceiling as Spike gazed at her face, until at last she fell asleep. Then Spike covered her naked body with a blanket and sat by the window smoking until the thin hour before dawn.