Mixed Feelings
Title: Mixed Feelings
Words: 1,000
Prompt: Through the Looking Glass
Rating: PG-13
Setting: January 1998
A/N: Uses one line from "School Hard" and one line from "Innocence"
He was free.
As the convulsions passed, too many impulses to count raced through him. Feed kill hunt blood hot fresh blood all these years
“Hey, you okay? You want me to call 911?”
Starting with her.
He rose, wearing last century’s smile. “Thanks, love. But I’ll be all right.”
She hadn’t blinked before he sank his teeth into her neck. Her whimpers and weak thrashing made him instantly hard, and he slowed. No need to guzzle. A corpse wouldn’t get him off. He wanted to enjoy this whore, little and blonde and tough but not tough enough, not like-
Buffy.
Buffy…
No no no
He flung the girl away. She fell on her ass and looked so deliciously helpless that he had to avert his eyes as he forced out, “Get out of here.”
Her dry sobs followed him into the apartment, and he remembered just in time not to slam the door.
Spike looked at Buffy lying still and peaceful on the bed, a small smile curving her lips as the sheet outlined all her other curves. It wouldn’t do to wake her just yet.
What was he going to say?
Remember how I told you tonight was perfect, love? Turns out my soul and perfect are- how would you say it- unmixy things. But you still love me, right?
Right?
Panic swept through him and before he knew it he was on the bed, his hand inches from her shoulder. Not to wake her, just to touch her, reassure himself that she was there, she was his.
She would love him. She wouldn’t reject him just because he had lost his soul.
Would she?
Fury erupted in him, vicious and overwhelming.
Better not reject me, not my fault, heartless bitch, if she does I’ll kill her-
No I’ll kill all the Scoobies first and make her watch, suck ‘em dry and use their bones to bash her head in, bloody stodgy watcher, stupid jealous whelp, Willow, no not sweet Willow, always accepted me
What am I saying, no no no no Buffy, I love you love you wouldn’t hurt you don’t want to
He would hurt anyone else, he craved to hurt someone, to twist a neck, drink his fill, rip screams from a ravaged throat, but he didn’t want to hurt her. And if he killed anyone else it would hurt her.
So…so he wouldn’t hurt anyone else. For now.
But would she understand?
He remembered her fear when she’d first learned what he was, how easily her tentative friendship had turned to distrust. He had killed the Annoying One to prove the worth of his soul. Could anything prove to her the worth of his soulless love?
What was he going to do?
Get it back.
A chill crawled down his spine, the likes of which he hadn’t felt since he was human. Get his soul back? With all that guilt and those feelings? It was crazy. He’d be mad as a hatter, mad as- as-
Dru.
Had she foreseen this? Had the stars told her that her ex-lover would lose that which had sent her fleeing once and for all into Angelus’s arms so many decades ago? Was that why she and Angelus had turned up in Sunnydale last fall, even though Angelus had always preferred to avoid slayer territory?
It occurred to Spike that he might be welcome in their family again now. Angelus would be suspicious at first, but Dru would bring him round as she always had. Or mayhap she wouldn’t even need to; Angelus would probably revel in the chance to use Spike as a weapon against the slayer; bastard always did prefer mind tricks to pure pain.
Spike twirled one of Buffy’s soft curls around his finger. Hell if he’d do that to her.
No, his love for Dru had died long ago. The only reason he’d go to the mansion on Crawford Street would be to double cross them.
That could work.
If he brought Buffy their dust she would have to trust him.
His stomach clenched as he circled back to his dilemma.
The hours until sunrise suddenly seemed very short. He had so little time before everything changed. Before he lost-
No no no no
Maybe he could just pretend he still had his soul. If he could keep his appetite in check, she need never know the difference.
I could turn her.
The whisper in the back of his mind made all other thoughts grind to a halt. If he sired her, Buffy wouldn’t care about his stupid soul. And they could be together forever.
Cause that worked so well with Mum, you worthless, selfish-
Tantalizing as the idea was in theory, the thought of it in practice also made his skin crawl. His beautiful golden goddess dwelt with creatures of the night out of necessity, but she wasn’t trapped in the darkness as he was; she belonged in the sunshine. And the idea of her goodness being perverted, her kindness turned to cruelty and her love to hate-
A shudder wracked him.
So both returning to Dru and siring Buffy were out. That left…
He shivered again.
The soul.
Even if you found the spell and someone to do it, you’d lose the blasted thing again anyway.
What, were he and Buffy supposed to never shag again?
That was definitely out.
If it came down to the soul, he’d find a different way to get it. There had to be ways other than Gypsy curses with idiotic loopholes.
But maybe it wouldn’t come down to that. Maybe Buffy would trust him.
Or maybe she’d be terrified of him.
Please no.
But I don’t want a soul.
The anxiety made him itch to find a fight. Or a jugular. But he couldn’t leave her, not when this might be his last chance to be with her. Besides, he needed to be there when she woke up. It was her first morning after and- oh, it was going to be bad enough without her having to wake up abandoned.
For this to happen on her first time-!
You utter wanker.
He gathered her into his arms, pressing his lips to her hair as she snuffled in her sleep. The voices in his head whispering to bleed her dry and cajoling him to bathe Sunnyhell in blood were quieter when he held her.
I love you, Buffy.
She would love him.
She had to still love him.
Buffy will love me.
If she didn't, he would find the gypsies and kill them slowly, using every last trick Angelus had taught him. He thought the soul had been their punishment, but was this torture their intent all along?
For he stood to lose so much more than a mere soul.
Words: 1,000
Prompt: Through the Looking Glass
Rating: PG-13
Setting: January 1998
A/N: Uses one line from "School Hard" and one line from "Innocence"
He was free.
As the convulsions passed, too many impulses to count raced through him. Feed kill hunt blood hot fresh blood all these years
“Hey, you okay? You want me to call 911?”
Starting with her.
He rose, wearing last century’s smile. “Thanks, love. But I’ll be all right.”
She hadn’t blinked before he sank his teeth into her neck. Her whimpers and weak thrashing made him instantly hard, and he slowed. No need to guzzle. A corpse wouldn’t get him off. He wanted to enjoy this whore, little and blonde and tough but not tough enough, not like-
Buffy.
Buffy…
No no no
He flung the girl away. She fell on her ass and looked so deliciously helpless that he had to avert his eyes as he forced out, “Get out of here.”
Her dry sobs followed him into the apartment, and he remembered just in time not to slam the door.
Spike looked at Buffy lying still and peaceful on the bed, a small smile curving her lips as the sheet outlined all her other curves. It wouldn’t do to wake her just yet.
What was he going to say?
Remember how I told you tonight was perfect, love? Turns out my soul and perfect are- how would you say it- unmixy things. But you still love me, right?
Right?
Panic swept through him and before he knew it he was on the bed, his hand inches from her shoulder. Not to wake her, just to touch her, reassure himself that she was there, she was his.
She would love him. She wouldn’t reject him just because he had lost his soul.
Would she?
Fury erupted in him, vicious and overwhelming.
Better not reject me, not my fault, heartless bitch, if she does I’ll kill her-
No I’ll kill all the Scoobies first and make her watch, suck ‘em dry and use their bones to bash her head in, bloody stodgy watcher, stupid jealous whelp, Willow, no not sweet Willow, always accepted me
What am I saying, no no no no Buffy, I love you love you wouldn’t hurt you don’t want to
He would hurt anyone else, he craved to hurt someone, to twist a neck, drink his fill, rip screams from a ravaged throat, but he didn’t want to hurt her. And if he killed anyone else it would hurt her.
So…so he wouldn’t hurt anyone else. For now.
But would she understand?
He remembered her fear when she’d first learned what he was, how easily her tentative friendship had turned to distrust. He had killed the Annoying One to prove the worth of his soul. Could anything prove to her the worth of his soulless love?
What was he going to do?
Get it back.
A chill crawled down his spine, the likes of which he hadn’t felt since he was human. Get his soul back? With all that guilt and those feelings? It was crazy. He’d be mad as a hatter, mad as- as-
Dru.
Had she foreseen this? Had the stars told her that her ex-lover would lose that which had sent her fleeing once and for all into Angelus’s arms so many decades ago? Was that why she and Angelus had turned up in Sunnydale last fall, even though Angelus had always preferred to avoid slayer territory?
It occurred to Spike that he might be welcome in their family again now. Angelus would be suspicious at first, but Dru would bring him round as she always had. Or mayhap she wouldn’t even need to; Angelus would probably revel in the chance to use Spike as a weapon against the slayer; bastard always did prefer mind tricks to pure pain.
Spike twirled one of Buffy’s soft curls around his finger. Hell if he’d do that to her.
No, his love for Dru had died long ago. The only reason he’d go to the mansion on Crawford Street would be to double cross them.
That could work.
If he brought Buffy their dust she would have to trust him.
His stomach clenched as he circled back to his dilemma.
The hours until sunrise suddenly seemed very short. He had so little time before everything changed. Before he lost-
No no no no
Maybe he could just pretend he still had his soul. If he could keep his appetite in check, she need never know the difference.
I could turn her.
The whisper in the back of his mind made all other thoughts grind to a halt. If he sired her, Buffy wouldn’t care about his stupid soul. And they could be together forever.
Cause that worked so well with Mum, you worthless, selfish-
Tantalizing as the idea was in theory, the thought of it in practice also made his skin crawl. His beautiful golden goddess dwelt with creatures of the night out of necessity, but she wasn’t trapped in the darkness as he was; she belonged in the sunshine. And the idea of her goodness being perverted, her kindness turned to cruelty and her love to hate-
A shudder wracked him.
So both returning to Dru and siring Buffy were out. That left…
He shivered again.
The soul.
Even if you found the spell and someone to do it, you’d lose the blasted thing again anyway.
What, were he and Buffy supposed to never shag again?
That was definitely out.
If it came down to the soul, he’d find a different way to get it. There had to be ways other than Gypsy curses with idiotic loopholes.
But maybe it wouldn’t come down to that. Maybe Buffy would trust him.
Or maybe she’d be terrified of him.
Please no.
But I don’t want a soul.
The anxiety made him itch to find a fight. Or a jugular. But he couldn’t leave her, not when this might be his last chance to be with her. Besides, he needed to be there when she woke up. It was her first morning after and- oh, it was going to be bad enough without her having to wake up abandoned.
For this to happen on her first time-!
You utter wanker.
He gathered her into his arms, pressing his lips to her hair as she snuffled in her sleep. The voices in his head whispering to bleed her dry and cajoling him to bathe Sunnyhell in blood were quieter when he held her.
I love you, Buffy.
She would love him.
She had to still love him.
Buffy will love me.
If she didn't, he would find the gypsies and kill them slowly, using every last trick Angelus had taught him. He thought the soul had been their punishment, but was this torture their intent all along?
For he stood to lose so much more than a mere soul.