Evil Will Claim

[katleept]

He walks up alone with a certain saltation in his step despite the pain racking every inch of his hard, lean body. He smiles through the blood pouring down his face and licks droplets of his own crimson river off of his upper lip. She thinks she won. She thinks she did this to him when he did not want her to, but she couldn't be more wrong.

Spike's never enjoyed being punished more in his life than when Buffy beats him. He shouldn't take such relish from her attacks. He wishes he didn't, but every time she touches him, rather it's to kiss him or hit him, is another small triumph for the Vampire who, as she has repeatedly told him, lacks a soul. Maybe that's what's wrong with him, he tells himself sometimes. Maybe that's why he likes for her to hit him.

But he knows the truth. The truth is, even if it is to strike pain and, she presumes, fear into him, Buffy's still deigning to touch him. The love of his life, who is so bent on being good and having nothing to do with him, still hits him, still touches him. The mere memory alone of her fists pounding his face makes him tingle now as he walks back to his crypt.

He pauses outside her home. He can smell her in there with Willow, Xander, and Dawn. He can smell her determination, her annoyance, and most of all, her fear not just from having believed herself to have taken an innocent life or from what else those three geeks with superbrains might yet try to do to her but of herself as well.

Buffy fears what she'll do next. She fears the time will come when she truly will take an innocent life. She fears she's not right inside, that a part of her is dead, and that another part doesn't care. She fears she can't stop Spike from loving her. She fears even more what she'll do to be with him, how she'll treat him, what it means for her soul and her heart that she's fucking a wild beast of the night every time she lets herself go, and most of all, she fears she won't stop him or herself.

Spike's smile grows in sinisterness and glee in the shadows outside the Slayer's home for he knows the girl better than she knows herself. She won't be able to stop. She might delay what's happening between them, but she'll never be able to stop it entirely. There's something in her that won't let go of him, no matter how hard he's tried, and that same something won't let her let go of him.

It'll keep her coming back to him every time they part. It'll make her still want him no matter how many times she screams at him that he's disgusting, vile, and evil. It'll help him make her shiver as he licks and kisses away the tears that stream too often down her face when they make love. It'll keep her locked to him, just as he is to her, no matter how hard she fights or how many times she rebuts him, pushes him away, and tears him apart.

Spike's tender, pale fingers feel gently of the bruises littering his handsome face, every one of which she gave to him this night as he protected her, yet again, from her own foolish self. She thinks she's won for now, and perhaps to some extent, she has. Her friends still don't know about them. He's forced to take her in the dark, but then, that shouldn't bother him.

The darkness is a part of them both. He has been a creature of the night now for well over a hundred years. Evil is as much a part of him as the beating heart to which he likes to listen is of her. She realizes that; it's one of the many reasons she still hates him yet while loving him. What she refuses to realize, but will one day, is that darkness is also a part of herself.

It's what keeps her distant even now from her friends, as she seeks their help. It's why she can't really love Dawn, why she couldn't keep loving Angel or Riley, why she can't love any one, not even herself. It's why she feels wrong and dirty inside and why she only feels even a little bit right when he's in her, pumping away like the mad carnage they both crave.

She is darkness, not light as Angel thought. She is his moon and his shadow. He wants to bask her in her glory not just for a few hours a night but every night for the rest of eternity. He wants her shadows to swallow him and his to swallow her in turn. Spike smiles, drops his hand from his bruises, and quells the urge to go show her cherished friends what she has done to him now.

They'll know soon enough, and they'll know the real reason why. They brought Buffy all right, but they brought back the true Buffy, the carnal Buffy, Spike's Buffy. She doesn't know it yet -- she'll refuse to admit the truth between them for a long time yet to come --, but she's been his since the moment she clawed her way out of her own coffin. She is his, in all the ways that matter most, and soon enough, he'll collect what is justifiably his. He'll win Buffy's love, claim her as his true Queen of the Dark, and they'll reign the darkness together not just for a hundred years as he and Dru did before the Slayer conquered his heart but for a thousand more.

Spike turns, grinning widely, fangs gleaming in the moonlight, and walks away. He whistles a haunting love song as he walks away from the Slayer for one more night. He walks away tonight, but soon, their darkness will conquer all. Soon, she will be his, beating heart, bruises, bite marks, and all. Then the night will be complete, eternal, and theirs forever more.

Behind him, Buffy shivers and glances out the window. She sees no visible sign of him, but still, she knows he's there. She knows he's there, and she aches to go to him. She almost does, but then Willow speaks. Buffy stops herself for one more night. No one sees the fear with which she looks at Dawn and the others. No one guesses at it. No one but herself. She fears for them, because she knows. One night, she's going to go to Spike, and then there will be no stopping him or her or the evil that will ensue.

The End