The Missing Scenes
folder
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
14
Views:
2,976
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
14
Views:
2,976
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Ch. 13
Ch. 13
"Bollocks!"
Spike was sitting in the crumbled house waiting for dusk. He'd had all day to think about what had happened last night and what had followed this morning. Why couldn't he keep his bloody mouth shut!?
He was just trying to tell her how bleedin' good she made him feel. He was a VAMPIRE for Christ's sake! So he didn't use poncey words! He wasn't a bloody pouf! He already told her he loved her! He snarled and kicked at some rubble as he paced within the wrecked house.
***
Buffy awoke from her nap feeling sore and tired. The night came crashing back to her as her sleepiness fled. She felt antsy and hyped. She needed to slay. To release some tension. She pulled on some jeans before slipping down the stairs and outside.
She walked through the park on the way to the cemetery. Automatically looking in every shadow for any nasty surprises. While her body was on auto-pilot her mind wandered.
So this whole time he had just wanted to do a slayer. It wasn't about her. About the way he felt. He just wanted to see what it would be like to sleep with one of them. If Faith were still around he probably would have gone after her first. Buffy's brow creased and her lips formed a thin line. Why should she care anyway? He was just convenient.
***
Spike had finally made it back to his crypt. He had debated whether or not to go after the Slayer. But he was getting sick and tired of chasing her all over Sunnyhell. Besides he wasn't a bleedin' puppy dog. Anyway, she'd gotten a taste of him now. He saw how he'd affected her. She couldn't deny it. She'd be back sooner or later.
Spike turned on the telly and sat back. Sipping on a beer he settled in for the night.
***
She found herself standing outside his crypt. She hadn't intended to come here. She hadn't intended to do anything more than her regular sweep. But now she was standing here. In front of HIS door. She could hear the television going, and knew that he must still be up. Or at least asleep on his ratty lounger.
She pictured him then Resting peacefully. The only time he didn't look annoyed or otherwise indisposed was during sleep. Of course that was also the only time he looked truly dead, or undead, as the case may be. // Damn! //
Why was it always him? Why did she feel anything when he was around? Why couldn't she feel anything when he wasn't? What was wrong with her? Spike. He had said something about her coming back wrong. About her not being human. He could hit her now. Without pain. Without consequences. What did that mean? Maybe he was right.
She turned when she heard the crypt door creak open.
***
"Slayer." Spike smirked. "Knew you'd be back for more."
"Get over yourself Spike." She pushed past him into the crypt and took a seat. "I'm here to talk."
"'Bout what, pet?" Spike returned to his seat in front of the tv.
"Can you turn that off please? I told you we need to talk."
"And I said, 'bout what?" He turned to face her, annoyance showing in the stiff lines of his forehead.
"Ugh! Fine. I'll do it myself!" She reached over and turned the knob on the television, earning her a scowl from Spike.
"I wanna know what you meant by my coming back wrong? How do you know the chip isn't just broken?"
He let out a deep sigh. He could see the anxiety written across her face, and that he would have to tell her what he had tried to do. He hated himself even more for caring whether she found out or not. He ran his fingers through his hair putting off his confession.
"Well?" Buffy was looking more impatient than anxious now.
"Well luv. After I found out I could hit you, I decided to go out for a few happy meals on legs." He looked up trying to gauge her reaction.
.
"And you couldn't?" Her eyes looked almost pleading. As if she wished he had.
"No luv." He whispered softly, moving toward her. "I've apparently still got the leash." He was next to her now. He reached out to place his hand atop her own clasped ones.
She was staring down at her lap now. Trying to figure out what it all meant. Spike's chip worked. Spike could hit her. Spike couldn't hit humans. She wasn't human? Tears started to fall then. For lack of a better plan she began to cry.
When her shoulders began to shake and she slumped against him, Spike began gently rubbing circles on her back. He whispered assurances to her as he felt her crumple against his chest.
"Shhh, luv. S'Okay. Everything'll be fine. Shhh." She was weeping now and couldn't seem to catch her breath. Her body began to shiver, and he reached out to the blanket on his vacated seat. Wrapping it snuggly around her he lifted her up and carried her down to the lower level of his crypt.
Buffy wanted to protest when he picked her up, but didn't seem to have the strength. She felt so drained. She was emotionally spent, and didn't have the energy to do more than keep breathing for the moment. When he placed her on the bed, she was surprised to find that he didn't join her.
Spike smoothed back the hair from Buffy's face and gave her a peck on the forehead. He caressed her cheek and said, "Rest now luv. Don't worry about a thing. We'll figure it out." And then he stepped away from her.
She was surprised by his tenderness. She had expected him to use her moment of weakness to his own advantage. But it seemed that he was actually trying to make her feel better, without taking anything for himself. Her mind began to drift as the weariness took her over, and she closed her eyes. She was asleep within moments.
Spike had stood on the other side of the room. Watching as she drifted out of consciousness. He went about the room lighting candles, as she slept on. When he was through he headed back toward the bed. He could still see the worry lines etched on Buffy's face and it made him grimace. He was the cause of that. He had wanted to hurt her.
Had wanted her to feel as bad as he did whenever she refused to believe the truth behind his feelings for her. He had wanted to hurt her physically. But as he watched her now, he knew that he had hurt her much deeper than he had planned.
He lay beside her in the bed. Ran his hand along her cheek, trying to smooth out some of the worry. Eventually he found himself spooning her body. His arms wrapped around her in comfort. She seemed to sense him there, and turned to rest her head upon his shoulder. He moved his arm so that he could pillow her head without discomfort, the warmth of her body pressed against his own.
Buffy woke to find herself enfolded within Spike's arms, and him asleep above her. She watched his face. The peaceful countenance that he wore at odds with his waking personality.
She was tired. She didn't want to think about the consequences of their conversation last night. And so she did the only thing she could. She nestled deeper into his embrace and fell back asleep.
"Bollocks!"
Spike was sitting in the crumbled house waiting for dusk. He'd had all day to think about what had happened last night and what had followed this morning. Why couldn't he keep his bloody mouth shut!?
He was just trying to tell her how bleedin' good she made him feel. He was a VAMPIRE for Christ's sake! So he didn't use poncey words! He wasn't a bloody pouf! He already told her he loved her! He snarled and kicked at some rubble as he paced within the wrecked house.
***
Buffy awoke from her nap feeling sore and tired. The night came crashing back to her as her sleepiness fled. She felt antsy and hyped. She needed to slay. To release some tension. She pulled on some jeans before slipping down the stairs and outside.
She walked through the park on the way to the cemetery. Automatically looking in every shadow for any nasty surprises. While her body was on auto-pilot her mind wandered.
So this whole time he had just wanted to do a slayer. It wasn't about her. About the way he felt. He just wanted to see what it would be like to sleep with one of them. If Faith were still around he probably would have gone after her first. Buffy's brow creased and her lips formed a thin line. Why should she care anyway? He was just convenient.
***
Spike had finally made it back to his crypt. He had debated whether or not to go after the Slayer. But he was getting sick and tired of chasing her all over Sunnyhell. Besides he wasn't a bleedin' puppy dog. Anyway, she'd gotten a taste of him now. He saw how he'd affected her. She couldn't deny it. She'd be back sooner or later.
Spike turned on the telly and sat back. Sipping on a beer he settled in for the night.
***
She found herself standing outside his crypt. She hadn't intended to come here. She hadn't intended to do anything more than her regular sweep. But now she was standing here. In front of HIS door. She could hear the television going, and knew that he must still be up. Or at least asleep on his ratty lounger.
She pictured him then Resting peacefully. The only time he didn't look annoyed or otherwise indisposed was during sleep. Of course that was also the only time he looked truly dead, or undead, as the case may be. // Damn! //
Why was it always him? Why did she feel anything when he was around? Why couldn't she feel anything when he wasn't? What was wrong with her? Spike. He had said something about her coming back wrong. About her not being human. He could hit her now. Without pain. Without consequences. What did that mean? Maybe he was right.
She turned when she heard the crypt door creak open.
***
"Slayer." Spike smirked. "Knew you'd be back for more."
"Get over yourself Spike." She pushed past him into the crypt and took a seat. "I'm here to talk."
"'Bout what, pet?" Spike returned to his seat in front of the tv.
"Can you turn that off please? I told you we need to talk."
"And I said, 'bout what?" He turned to face her, annoyance showing in the stiff lines of his forehead.
"Ugh! Fine. I'll do it myself!" She reached over and turned the knob on the television, earning her a scowl from Spike.
"I wanna know what you meant by my coming back wrong? How do you know the chip isn't just broken?"
He let out a deep sigh. He could see the anxiety written across her face, and that he would have to tell her what he had tried to do. He hated himself even more for caring whether she found out or not. He ran his fingers through his hair putting off his confession.
"Well?" Buffy was looking more impatient than anxious now.
"Well luv. After I found out I could hit you, I decided to go out for a few happy meals on legs." He looked up trying to gauge her reaction.
.
"And you couldn't?" Her eyes looked almost pleading. As if she wished he had.
"No luv." He whispered softly, moving toward her. "I've apparently still got the leash." He was next to her now. He reached out to place his hand atop her own clasped ones.
She was staring down at her lap now. Trying to figure out what it all meant. Spike's chip worked. Spike could hit her. Spike couldn't hit humans. She wasn't human? Tears started to fall then. For lack of a better plan she began to cry.
When her shoulders began to shake and she slumped against him, Spike began gently rubbing circles on her back. He whispered assurances to her as he felt her crumple against his chest.
"Shhh, luv. S'Okay. Everything'll be fine. Shhh." She was weeping now and couldn't seem to catch her breath. Her body began to shiver, and he reached out to the blanket on his vacated seat. Wrapping it snuggly around her he lifted her up and carried her down to the lower level of his crypt.
Buffy wanted to protest when he picked her up, but didn't seem to have the strength. She felt so drained. She was emotionally spent, and didn't have the energy to do more than keep breathing for the moment. When he placed her on the bed, she was surprised to find that he didn't join her.
Spike smoothed back the hair from Buffy's face and gave her a peck on the forehead. He caressed her cheek and said, "Rest now luv. Don't worry about a thing. We'll figure it out." And then he stepped away from her.
She was surprised by his tenderness. She had expected him to use her moment of weakness to his own advantage. But it seemed that he was actually trying to make her feel better, without taking anything for himself. Her mind began to drift as the weariness took her over, and she closed her eyes. She was asleep within moments.
Spike had stood on the other side of the room. Watching as she drifted out of consciousness. He went about the room lighting candles, as she slept on. When he was through he headed back toward the bed. He could still see the worry lines etched on Buffy's face and it made him grimace. He was the cause of that. He had wanted to hurt her.
Had wanted her to feel as bad as he did whenever she refused to believe the truth behind his feelings for her. He had wanted to hurt her physically. But as he watched her now, he knew that he had hurt her much deeper than he had planned.
He lay beside her in the bed. Ran his hand along her cheek, trying to smooth out some of the worry. Eventually he found himself spooning her body. His arms wrapped around her in comfort. She seemed to sense him there, and turned to rest her head upon his shoulder. He moved his arm so that he could pillow her head without discomfort, the warmth of her body pressed against his own.
Buffy woke to find herself enfolded within Spike's arms, and him asleep above her. She watched his face. The peaceful countenance that he wore at odds with his waking personality.
She was tired. She didn't want to think about the consequences of their conversation last night. And so she did the only thing she could. She nestled deeper into his embrace and fell back asleep.