The Story of B

Title: The Story of B
Part One: Epiphany
Author: Kimi
Rating: NC17 overall
Distribution: Where I post, for now. But ask me, I'm a push over. Chen knows.
Spoilers: Current Season 6
Disclaimers: All Joss, all ME, all the time.
Feedback: You betta, you betta, you bet!

Summary: The communication was wiped clean in TR, then smashed, wrecked, gone, put through a doublemeat grinder and turned into a dead thing.


+++++++++++++++++++++

This was nothing like she'd imagined.

Um, not that she'd imagined it at all. Nope. Not once.

That's because she'd done everything she could do *not* to imagine it, and still her imagination kicked in at the strangest times. Who was she trying to kid? Because she'd imagined a lot of different endings for the night she'd come back from that hole in the ground and he'd come to the house, frantically searching for Dawn.

She *had* kissed him before, of course, while under Willow's misguided spell to have her will done. So she knew about the kisses. And the last 24 hours should excuse a lot of sins - what with the singing demons, threats of internal combustion, true confessions -

And this was just some kind of residual song and dance demon spell stuff, hardly a thing of any real permanence. Just a kiss. It wasn't like her life was going to change or anything.

Been there, done that. Crawled out of the grave, gasping for air.

A lot like she was doing right now.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Since she'd returned, Spike had been the only one she could really talk to. She'd been comforted by his acceptance, his implicit understanding. He didn't expect her to be the same old Buffy: he'd clawed his way out of his coffin just as she had. That had to change a person, right?

Frankly, she didn't expect anyone else to *ever* get that, although it would have been nice. So she'd found herself in Spikecompcompany when she felt especially out of touch with her friends, her Watcher, her sister.

But since his disturbing confession tonight, while singing to her in his crypt, there'd been a threat to the status quo: Spike felt used, Spike still loved her though she didn't feel the same, and Spike wanted her to stay away from him. Hence the disturbed.

She hadn't even considered that. She'd just been content with the fact that there was someone out there that she didn't have to play 'let's pretend' with. And obviously, she wasn't playing 'let's pretend,' but he was: because he hadn't once mentioned love, hadn't said any of the things he'd said tonight in that 'widdle song,' as Xander had dubbed it, until it was wrung out of him.

Then, of course, there'd been her own confession, made in front of everyone she'd been hiding the truth from. The truth that she'd been in heaven, not the hell dimension they'd imagined. It would have been funny if she'd been able to really enjoy their shock and discomfort. They'd all thought they'd done such a great thing. 'Thanks, guys. Glad to be back in hell on earth. Be sure and do this again next time I find a good place to spend eternity.' Now they were hurt and guilty. And she couldn't stand to look at them. Saying it (singing it) out loud had opened the wound and she was bleeding.

So now the bad guy (was he really that bad? she hadn't ever really felt threatened by any of it, not even the dying part) was defeated, gang gathered for the big finale, singing bittersweet words, and suddenly, Spike was nowhere to be seen.

Ooh, big bad hero. Didn't even wait around for the swooning maid to thank him for stopping her from combusting and dusting into ashes.

He knew better. He knew she wasn't thanking him.

She'd continued singing for a moment with the others, but her voice had trailed off, spell broken. And she'd remembered that one line from the song he'd sung earlier to her in his crypt. 'I know I should go - '

She'd tried every way in the world to get rid of him and he still wouldn't leave. Well everything short of staking him, that is, and what was with that, anyway? You'd have thought she'd have had her 'one good day' after all these years, right? She was the slayer!

And now, with everything up in the air, with her drunken confession (oh, yes, she remembered saying it in the haze of tequila rushes, frustration, anger anuseausea) that the only person she could stand to be around was a neutered vampire, he'd said *that*! Sang that line (and not very well, either, she thought spitefully) and now he'd left. Just vanished.

If he went away, really went away, who was left? Willow was off in her own little world, pleased as punch at what an 'oh, so powerful' Wicca she'd become. With his permanently pursed lips, Giles demonstrated his disapproval at her failure to get her life together. Xander was - occupied. And here the evil vampire was, being so sensitive, never pushing her to be 'okay' like her 'friends' did. Letting her be herself, which is what 'they' ought to be doing. That made her as mad as hell at him! That he was the one who she went to, not them. She needed to tell him -

Tell him what, exactly? She wondered about that as she broke away and followed him out into the night.

Well, she'd figure it out when she caught up with him.

They'd become - what? Friends? Friends, she admitted, cringing. How the mighty had fallen! And then he had to go and spoil it with one little song. He was always spoiling things. Always telling her stuff she didn't want to hear.

When she'd finally caught up with him outside the Magic Box, he'd looked at her like she was the very last person he ever wanted to see, to talk to. Cutting her off with his hand, dismissing her. He was practically sputtering in exasperation. And he really hadn't had the right. She was new to this whole 'waking up in hell' thing. He'd had a hundred years to deal with it! Um, without the heaven part, of course.

Then while she'd been trying to find the words to say to him, whatever they were, she'd had that residual reprise epiphany thingy. She'd opened her mouth to speak and it had just come out.

'I touch the fire and it freezes me - .' And he'd answered. Oh, great. A duet.

And that's what had gotten her in this mess, because mess it was going to be. At that moment, she'd felt warm again and she hadn't felt warm in a very long time. She just wanted a moment's peace to enjoy it.

But that wasn't how these lingering residual spells worked, was it? She'd kept on singing and then their voices were melding together.

And she'd kissed him.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. To stop the singing. To keep him from the part of the song that had hurt her so badly. To keep him from speaking 'his' truth. To keep him from rejecting her. To keep him from leaving.

And because she wanted to kiss him. It was that damn spell, of course.

So - lips of Spike.

This was a lot different from the last time. It wasn't happy-happy, joy-joy, 'let's get married' stuff. This was desperate and sad, urgent and hungry. It was exactly how she felt and how he felt. And it went on forever, so that she was gasping for breath. He'd put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her closer, but there *was* no closer. Not standing outside the Magic Box.

She loved (how weird was that?) the way his mouth felt and tasted. She maneuvered to try to get even closer herself, because she could tell that she was almost - thawing out. Beginning to feel warm and safe. Then he did something. She wasn't sure what, but she'd realized that he didn't just want kisses. And neither did she -

Frowning, she broke away.

She knew he was watching her go. She could imagine the expression on his face, imagine him letting out a disgusted breath and starting after her. Could almost feel him stop following, still confused and frustrated.

But there was no way he was as confused and frustrated as she was right now.

Damn demons!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

She didn't know how she'd ended up the same mess she'd been in a week ago, but she had. She was kissing him, yes, but it felt a lot more intimate than 'just a kiss.' Her body was melting against his just as her mouth was. And God, he did kiss really well.

His hands were on her shoulders again, squeezing, pulling her into every kiss. It was so incredibly sexual that she didn't know how it could get any better, until she thought of those hands on other parts of her. Kissing Spike was like - well, no, it wasn't. It wasn't like anything she'd ever known in her life.

Of course, considering he'd been doing it for over a hud yed years as compared to her own limited years of experience, she shouldn't be so surprised, should she?

Okay, visions of Drusilla, Harmony and whoever else he'd planted those lips on. She broke away, looking down.

He dipped his head down in a silent question. She could feel it. Soon he'd be asking, 'what's wrong?' And in answer to that silent question, she raised her eyes to his, almost coyly. There was something in them that made her stomach lurch and her body grow hot. And his mouth was right there.

Suddenly, it was *so* not a big deal about Dru or anyone else.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It had been nice to be someone else for a while, especially someone who wasn't seriously disturbed. Yet. But why did Spike always have to be in the vicinity when Willow screwed up a spell? Was it a plot?

There she had been, 'Joan' the Vampire Slayer, getting a handle on the whole vampire fighting thing, even getting back a few good solid Buffy moves. Then, RL, real life, had all come rushing back: first, her mother's death (never fro from her mind with Dawn to raise), Giles decision to leave (for her, a typical father figure response), Angel (the first one to bail in a big dramatic way), and Riley (now that had been a surprise). And of course there was the whole 'living, dying, living' thing that was a sure fight stopper.

She'd almost fainted. Maybe she had. She'd barely noticed that vamp kicking the hell out of her. It's like she wasn't even there really. She'd been completely numb, ready to tune out.

Then, he was there, hand outstretched to help her up, wearing that stupid 'disguise' in full gameface. The number one reminder of why she should never go to him. Ever. A reminder that 'chipped' didn't mean 'de-fanged'. And most upsetting of all, the reminder that there was no one she'd rather have at her back than Spike.

What was wrong with this picture?

What was wrong with her life?

She'd run.

She'd been sitting here qui for for hours, thinking about 'Joan,' her forgetful alter ego, and remembering what it had been like when she'd first become a slayer. Things had been so black and white then. Slayer good, Vampire bad. Very bad.

And suddenly, 'bad' *except* for Angel. Then, there was evil Angelus. And finally back again to the whole 'not evil' thing.

At least Angel had a soul. He'd had one three times now. All Spike had was a chip, a government chip that kept him from killing her and her friends. Not the same thing at all.

Except 'Joan' had gone out of her way to take care of 'Randy.' Joan liked Randy. A lot. She really wasn't even afraid of Randy when she'd realized he was a vampire. Instead of staking him, she'd talked to him, argued with him, fought beside him.

Familiar much? Obviously Joan was certifiably insane.

Too. The Then, her thoughts had been jarringly interrupted. He was there at her elbow, right there at the bar in the Bronze. And she didn't have the time to think about him standing there with that questioning look in his eyes, because she was *already* thinking about him, and she needed to finish thinking, because - she turned her head away.

Of course he'd found her. She hadn't gone to the airport with Giles. She hadn't done anything except get Dawn home and leave again. And there he was, back in black, ready to talk. It felt like he'd been talking at her now all of her adult life. He'd track her to the ends of the earth just to get a word in; The Bronze had been a 'chip' shot.

She didn't want to talk to him. She could barely look at him, with that hopeful expression on his face that had wavered to 'wounded,' then 'disgusted.'

What part of 'vampire slayer' did he not understand? Hell, he'd killed two of them. Tried to kill her at least a dozen times and now he was looking at her like she was the bad guy? She'd kissed him. That was all. And she blamed it all on that singing demon guy anyway. Never would have kissed him at all if she'd been in her right mind.

She had turned back to him to ask him to give her a break please. Just a small break so she could think. Because she'd been *so* close to figuring it out.

All she saw was a swirl of leather and his back.

Epiphany forgotten, she sat there dumbfounded. What? *He* was pissed? After all, Joan had had to deal with the fact that a prospective boyfriend, someone she thought was 'cool', someone she was majorly attracted to, had turned out to be a vampire, and *he* was pissed?

Well, she thought angrily, jumping down and heading toward the door, it was about time he realized how he was complicating her life.

He'd pulled away from her when she'd caught up with him and grabbed at his arm. Pulled away! From *her*!

And in her confusion, she'd tried to stop him. And she'd recently discovered a very good way to do that and shut him up at the same time.

+++++++++++++++++++++

Once again, it was about the fire. It was about the need to be touched, singed even, by something that also walked this living hell of a life.

And even though his lips were cool, she took the fire from them. His kisses burned her mouth, her heart, and the warmth crept out from within.

Suddenly, she was very, very warm. She felt flushed and fevered like she did when she'd been sick as a little girl. And she needed more of it, because it had been so long since any part of her had seemed so alive. She needed 'more', even though she didn't want to think about what 'more' meant.

Wasn't he getting hot in that coat? She was getting hot just being close to him while he was wearing that coat.

She tasted stale cigarettes, heard the crinkle of black leather as clearly as if it had been coming over a stereo speaker. Then his tongue started to move in her mouth in time with his hands as he kneaded her shoulders. And she realized she was pulling on his tongue, drawing it deep, in tio tho the same slow beat. And it was just like they were -

She thought she might be catching on fire, smoldering, seconds from igniting into flame, just from the friction of lips on lips and body rubbing against body. And he was so taut, so -

Time to leave, 'Joan,' she thought in a moment of clarity, because this could end up in a very bad place.

Like Spike's crypt.

'Joan' responded by thrusting herself against the rigid body part in question.

Now *that* really made it time to go.

She was through the door to the Bronze before 'Joan' did something Buffy would regret in the morning.


TBC