He left his building and turned toward the club. A bit
of nice relaxing music, a couple of beers—that was what he felt
like tonight. And that’s when he spotted her, waiting in a doorway
for him to make an appearance. Turning in frustration, he stormed off
the other way. When was she going to take the bloody hint and just leave
him be? He was getting sick of it. At least three nights a week she
tracked him down. He’d thought about moving, and finding new hangouts,
but why the hell should he? He was happy with his life at the moment.
He liked where he lived, the places he frequented, the casual slaying
when he felt like it. He was even contemplating acquiring a false University
degree in History—as his real one was a little out of date—and
‘going back’ to Uni to study teaching. He’d enjoy
teaching history, and he figured he’d be damn good at it too!
So all in all, life was pretty good right now. Except for the bloody slayer. She haunted him. It didn’t matter what he did she wouldn’t leave him alone, and he was getting so pissed off with her that pretty soon he might be adding a third slayer to his belt after all! He felt her presence drawing near as she hurried after him. Stopping, he turned and glared. “Why can’t you bloody well leave me be?” he asked in exasperation. “Can’t you get it through your thick skull that I’m not bloody interested?” “I don’t believe you, Spike. I know what you felt was real. I don’t care what some voice told you... it was real. I felt it. I saw it in your eyes… it wasn’t a lie!” She lifted her chin stubbornly and fixed his eyes with her own, longing only to drown in their deep azure pools. As he stood temporarily transfixed by her words she reached out with one hand to stroke the beautiful planes of his face; she ached to touch him. Just before her hand made contact he woke from his trance and jerked away from her, leaving her bereft, tears gently tracking down her face. “You have no idea what you are talking about, you stupid bint!” He stormed off down the street, taking turns blindly in an attempt to leave her behind. She caught up with him ten minutes later as he turned into a dimly lit alley. “Spike… please? Won’t you just give us a chance? I love you, I don’t want to lose you again… Please, baby?. Please?” The last plea was almost a whisper, despair filling her as she took in his closed face and angry eyes. “Love!” He spat the word at her. “You wouldn’t know love if it jumped up and bit you on the bloody arse. Fucking isn’t love, and fuckin’ is all we ever did, sweetheart!” He was cold hard fury now, no trace of her gentle, tender lover remained. Moving with a speed and strength beyond anything he’d ever displayed before, he grabbed her, pinning her furiously against the rough, harsh brick of the alley wall. “You want this, do you? You want me to fuck you? Fine!” He ripped open her blouse, hands that had previously elicited such pleasure now pinched and grabbed—there was no tenderness, no urge to please. Reaching under her skirt he tore her panties from her body. “This what you want, pet?” He looked her in the eye, his own eyes burning with rage. When she made no move to stop him, he reached down and undid his fly, thrusting himself into her cruelly until he was spent and his anger burnt away. Turning away from her, he dressed himself hurriedly, shame ripping at him, and walked away without a backward glance. As he was leaving, her quiet voice drifted to him through her tears, “I love you, Spike… I will always love you.” His pace quickened to a run, putting as much distance between them as he could. ~*~ Numbly, Buffy pulled her blouse into place the best she could, knotting the ends together as the buttons had been torn off. She pulled her skirt down, her panties had been shredded and thrown across the alley. Drying her tears, she made her way out of the alley and headed for home. She was bruised and sore and her back was bleeding where skin had been scrapped off on the rough brick. Worse than anything, her heart ached. She’d made no move to
stop him; she wanted him badly, longed for his touch. She hadn’t
expected him to be so heartless—so cruel. She knew he was angry,
but had thought his anger would disperse quickly, that the passion
and love he had once felt would resurface. She knew he was in there,
buried somewhere under all the anger and betrayal. She just had to
find a way to reach him. |