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Entry tags:
Her Next Move
Title: Her Next Move
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Character/Pairing: Spike/Buffy
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge/Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
nekid_spike Fashion Show and 1_million_words Numbers Challenge: 420
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1,587
Date Written: 9 September 2016
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.
"What do we do now, Buffy?" Willow asked, fear creeping into her uncertain tone.
"We do what we always do, Wills," Buffy replied casually. It wouldn't do for the Slayer's fear to show itself even if only in her voice. "We don't back down. We keep fighting, and eventually, we'll find a way to beat them."
"That's right," a familiar voice whispers, interjecting itself onto the events of the day. "You don't back down. You don't show weakness. You don't show need. You just keep fighting."
Buffy looks around, but the day is bright. There's no signs of the monsters she fights every night except for that whispering voice that's making her skin crawl with apprehension. "Who's there?" she demands.
"You know who I am."
"Who are you?"
"I am whoever you want me to be." Suddenly, the lights go out. Willow and the birds disappear. But day hasn't turned into night. It's more as if she's stepped onto a stage and all the lights in the stadium have gone out.
Suddenly, a spotlight flips on, and music blares. She spins toward the light, and Spike slides into view, wearing nothing more than tight, black leather pants and screeching into a microphone, "If you think I'm sexy, baby, and you want my body, let me know." She's heard Spike sing before. He doesn't sound bad, but this sounds about as bad as the time her mother had a cat who every tomcat in the neighborhood decided to visit.
"Spike -- " Now her uncertainty is showing, but she still stands her ground.
"You'll always stand your ground, won't you, Slayer?"
Her world gets turned upside down, and Spike stands before her, fingers outstretched and body fully clothed in leather and silk. His hair is long and spiked. Jewels glitter on his black, leather jacket. The way he looks reminds Buffy of a movie she hasn't seen in ages. "I could be your world." Suddenly he's on the floor before her again, this time chained and mostly unclothed once more except for the dark tatters of trousers left covering his groin. "But you don't want me, do you?"
Her world flashes, and she finds herself in a dress, her long, blonde hair done up in curls. There's a fan in her hand which she instantly tosses away from her; a stake clatters to the floor in its stead. She looks where Spike was. The chains are gone. He stands before her, dressed prim and proper with glasses perched on his nose. He pushes them back up onto the bridge of his nose; she half expects him to take them off and starting cleaning them like Giles does every time he's upset with her and trying not to show it. "I could have loved you."
He reaches out to her, and his arms surround her though she tries to run. "I could have been your everything." He's three men at once: Angel with his hair down and long, curling over a black cape; Riley dressed in his military uniform; and himself donned in tight, black leather and a simple, black T shirt once again.
"But you never wanted me, did you? No matter what I did." He becomes himself again, but he's holding a globe representing the world between them. "No matter what I gave." His hands stretch out toward her, his fingers almost touching her, and the globe becomes a beating heart. "No matter what I became." He flickers back and forth between Angel and his own self before falling at her feet.
"I was your puppet, Buffy," he breathes raggedly. "You could have made me anything you wanted me to be, but no matter what I was, you never really wanted me, did you?" Rips show in his clothing, and she recognizes the tears. She made them herself the last time they made love, but what they do can't really be called making love. They're far more like two animals rutting in mating season. He is an animal, but she doesn't have such an easy excuse.
"You used me, abused me, thought you'd just kick away the old Spike can whenever you got ready. But I'm back now, aren't I, Slayer? And you don't know what you're going to do about it, about me, or about anything." He's chained once more, only his pants are solid. He drapes his bare arms across a giant cross, and she screams as she sees his skin begin to smoke.
She tries to run to him, but once again, she finds she can't move. Her feet are stuck. She's running, heart pounding, but she's not getting anywhere. He grins at her, morphing out into his Vampire face and showing his fangs in a dangerous hiss that's louder than the hissing of the smoke curling from his own body. "You didn't want the monster, but he'll always be here."
He morphs once more. Again, he's properly dressed, looking like he just stepped of the pages of a historical romance, but his glasses are askew on his face. "You didn't want the man. You were no kinder to me than Cecily."
Once more, he falls into bare and smoking skin and his face twists into the haunting image of a lost soul. The panicked rhythm of her own heartbeat pounds loudly all around them. "But I'm back now. Want me or not, I'm back, Slayer." He hisses as he lays his cheek against the cross and it catches flame. He gazes directly into her wide, green eyes, half his face burning. "What are you going to do about it?"
Laughter surrounds her, drowning out the sound of her heart. Buffy spins. Spike surrounds her as William, as William the Bloody, as the monster he was when he first came into her life, as the man who tried to rape her, as the man who's broken and hardly more than a ghost existing in the basement of Sunnydale High. He surrounds her laughing, crying, chuckling, roaring with pain, with hunger . . . The roars fill her ears. He gnashes his fangs at her, and . . .
Buffy wakes, the sounds of her own screams echoing away into the darkness of her bedroom. She untangles her fingers from her wet sheets, wipes the sweat and tears from her face, and looks around her. Her heartbeat once more fills her ears. The glowing numbers on the clock next to her bed tell her it's only 4:20. She only got to bed at three, but she won't get any more sleep tonight.
She's still shaking as she slips from her bed and pads to her shower. She bathes quickly, and her heart rate's almost returned to normal by the time she's dressed. Still, she can't shake the images from her mind of Spike broken, of Spike being a normal, human man telling her she's done him as much wrong as the woman who first broke his heart and helped to lead him into Drusilla's waiting arms, helped to make him the monster he's become . . . His roar whispers through her mind, but it doesn't touch her with near as much fear as his cries did.
He's broken, and yet there are times when she still just wants to fuck his brains out. She shakes inside, her stomach and heart both quivering at the changes that have taken her over and which they still don't understand. Spike's no longer a monster. Does that make her a monster? She doesn't know.
She grabs a couple of bags of blood from the cooler she's now keeping shoved back behind her chest in the bottom of her closet. After a brief moment's hesitation, she grabs an axe along with her purse and heads on out. As she pulls out of her driveway and starts for the school, she hears both Spike's and Willow's voices in her head. "What do we do now, Buffy? What do you do?"
She doesn't know. She's got so many questions but no answers. Her footsteps echo in the school as she walks through it; they grow louder as she descends into the basement. She stops as she enters the darkness and stares. She stares at the man who's so utterly broken before her. She stares at the man who gave his all to try to love her, who didn't get cursed with a soul but rather earned it.
Looking at him in those early hours of the morning, his head downcast as he has no idea she's there yet for he's wrapped in another of his own, endless nightmares, Buffy realizes she finally has one answer. She doesn't know what she's going to do next, but she knows what she's not going to do. She's not going to be a monster. She's not going to return love with hate. She's not going to hurt him any more. She's not going to hurt him like Cecily did or Drusilla or even herself.
She's going to treat him with love and kindness. She's going to try to mend him, but even if she can't, she knows already she can't put him down. The darkness will have neither of them or both of them, but it will never have him alone again. "Spike," she whispers and licks her lips, realizing how dry her throat's become.
He jumps, a wild look entering his blue eyes. "Slayer," he murmurs, but she shakes her head.
"No Slayer tonight," she says gently, "just me."
"Buffy?"
"Yes," she whispers, and treats him with love.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Character/Pairing: Spike/Buffy
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge/Prompt:
nekid_spike Fashion Show and 1_million_words Numbers Challenge: 420Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1,587
Date Written: 9 September 2016
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.
"What do we do now, Buffy?" Willow asked, fear creeping into her uncertain tone.
"We do what we always do, Wills," Buffy replied casually. It wouldn't do for the Slayer's fear to show itself even if only in her voice. "We don't back down. We keep fighting, and eventually, we'll find a way to beat them."
"That's right," a familiar voice whispers, interjecting itself onto the events of the day. "You don't back down. You don't show weakness. You don't show need. You just keep fighting."
Buffy looks around, but the day is bright. There's no signs of the monsters she fights every night except for that whispering voice that's making her skin crawl with apprehension. "Who's there?" she demands.
"You know who I am."
"Who are you?"
"I am whoever you want me to be." Suddenly, the lights go out. Willow and the birds disappear. But day hasn't turned into night. It's more as if she's stepped onto a stage and all the lights in the stadium have gone out.
Suddenly, a spotlight flips on, and music blares. She spins toward the light, and Spike slides into view, wearing nothing more than tight, black leather pants and screeching into a microphone, "If you think I'm sexy, baby, and you want my body, let me know." She's heard Spike sing before. He doesn't sound bad, but this sounds about as bad as the time her mother had a cat who every tomcat in the neighborhood decided to visit.
"Spike -- " Now her uncertainty is showing, but she still stands her ground.
"You'll always stand your ground, won't you, Slayer?"
Her world gets turned upside down, and Spike stands before her, fingers outstretched and body fully clothed in leather and silk. His hair is long and spiked. Jewels glitter on his black, leather jacket. The way he looks reminds Buffy of a movie she hasn't seen in ages. "I could be your world." Suddenly he's on the floor before her again, this time chained and mostly unclothed once more except for the dark tatters of trousers left covering his groin. "But you don't want me, do you?"
Her world flashes, and she finds herself in a dress, her long, blonde hair done up in curls. There's a fan in her hand which she instantly tosses away from her; a stake clatters to the floor in its stead. She looks where Spike was. The chains are gone. He stands before her, dressed prim and proper with glasses perched on his nose. He pushes them back up onto the bridge of his nose; she half expects him to take them off and starting cleaning them like Giles does every time he's upset with her and trying not to show it. "I could have loved you."
He reaches out to her, and his arms surround her though she tries to run. "I could have been your everything." He's three men at once: Angel with his hair down and long, curling over a black cape; Riley dressed in his military uniform; and himself donned in tight, black leather and a simple, black T shirt once again.
"But you never wanted me, did you? No matter what I did." He becomes himself again, but he's holding a globe representing the world between them. "No matter what I gave." His hands stretch out toward her, his fingers almost touching her, and the globe becomes a beating heart. "No matter what I became." He flickers back and forth between Angel and his own self before falling at her feet.
"I was your puppet, Buffy," he breathes raggedly. "You could have made me anything you wanted me to be, but no matter what I was, you never really wanted me, did you?" Rips show in his clothing, and she recognizes the tears. She made them herself the last time they made love, but what they do can't really be called making love. They're far more like two animals rutting in mating season. He is an animal, but she doesn't have such an easy excuse.
"You used me, abused me, thought you'd just kick away the old Spike can whenever you got ready. But I'm back now, aren't I, Slayer? And you don't know what you're going to do about it, about me, or about anything." He's chained once more, only his pants are solid. He drapes his bare arms across a giant cross, and she screams as she sees his skin begin to smoke.
She tries to run to him, but once again, she finds she can't move. Her feet are stuck. She's running, heart pounding, but she's not getting anywhere. He grins at her, morphing out into his Vampire face and showing his fangs in a dangerous hiss that's louder than the hissing of the smoke curling from his own body. "You didn't want the monster, but he'll always be here."
He morphs once more. Again, he's properly dressed, looking like he just stepped of the pages of a historical romance, but his glasses are askew on his face. "You didn't want the man. You were no kinder to me than Cecily."
Once more, he falls into bare and smoking skin and his face twists into the haunting image of a lost soul. The panicked rhythm of her own heartbeat pounds loudly all around them. "But I'm back now. Want me or not, I'm back, Slayer." He hisses as he lays his cheek against the cross and it catches flame. He gazes directly into her wide, green eyes, half his face burning. "What are you going to do about it?"
Laughter surrounds her, drowning out the sound of her heart. Buffy spins. Spike surrounds her as William, as William the Bloody, as the monster he was when he first came into her life, as the man who tried to rape her, as the man who's broken and hardly more than a ghost existing in the basement of Sunnydale High. He surrounds her laughing, crying, chuckling, roaring with pain, with hunger . . . The roars fill her ears. He gnashes his fangs at her, and . . .
Buffy wakes, the sounds of her own screams echoing away into the darkness of her bedroom. She untangles her fingers from her wet sheets, wipes the sweat and tears from her face, and looks around her. Her heartbeat once more fills her ears. The glowing numbers on the clock next to her bed tell her it's only 4:20. She only got to bed at three, but she won't get any more sleep tonight.
She's still shaking as she slips from her bed and pads to her shower. She bathes quickly, and her heart rate's almost returned to normal by the time she's dressed. Still, she can't shake the images from her mind of Spike broken, of Spike being a normal, human man telling her she's done him as much wrong as the woman who first broke his heart and helped to lead him into Drusilla's waiting arms, helped to make him the monster he's become . . . His roar whispers through her mind, but it doesn't touch her with near as much fear as his cries did.
He's broken, and yet there are times when she still just wants to fuck his brains out. She shakes inside, her stomach and heart both quivering at the changes that have taken her over and which they still don't understand. Spike's no longer a monster. Does that make her a monster? She doesn't know.
She grabs a couple of bags of blood from the cooler she's now keeping shoved back behind her chest in the bottom of her closet. After a brief moment's hesitation, she grabs an axe along with her purse and heads on out. As she pulls out of her driveway and starts for the school, she hears both Spike's and Willow's voices in her head. "What do we do now, Buffy? What do you do?"
She doesn't know. She's got so many questions but no answers. Her footsteps echo in the school as she walks through it; they grow louder as she descends into the basement. She stops as she enters the darkness and stares. She stares at the man who's so utterly broken before her. She stares at the man who gave his all to try to love her, who didn't get cursed with a soul but rather earned it.
Looking at him in those early hours of the morning, his head downcast as he has no idea she's there yet for he's wrapped in another of his own, endless nightmares, Buffy realizes she finally has one answer. She doesn't know what she's going to do next, but she knows what she's not going to do. She's not going to be a monster. She's not going to return love with hate. She's not going to hurt him any more. She's not going to hurt him like Cecily did or Drusilla or even herself.
She's going to treat him with love and kindness. She's going to try to mend him, but even if she can't, she knows already she can't put him down. The darkness will have neither of them or both of them, but it will never have him alone again. "Spike," she whispers and licks her lips, realizing how dry her throat's become.
He jumps, a wild look entering his blue eyes. "Slayer," he murmurs, but she shakes her head.
"No Slayer tonight," she says gently, "just me."
"Buffy?"
"Yes," she whispers, and treats him with love.
The End