Overcome
folder
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,586
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,586
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is purely a work of fiction. I do not own the Buffy fandom and I don’t profit from writing this fan fiction.
Overcome
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NOTE: This fanfic takes place sometime during Season 6 near the end of episode 12 ‘Dead Things’ right before Buffy & Tara talk. Also, it hasn't been beta read and as such I appoligize for any errors. Oh yeah, and please review haha.
WARNING: It is more than likely that there will be spoilers from seasons 1 through 6 involved so if you don’t wanna know anything about them then I suggest turning back now, otherwise enjoy!
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OVERCOME
Speed walking down a dark but quiet little Sunnydale street with her tiny leather coat pulled tight around her and her cropped blond hair flying every which way, was a very disturbed little woman. To the common passerby she’d have seemed to be a bit troubled but not seemingly by anything too devastating.
Anyone who would think this had clearly never met Buffy Summers.
There she was, storming down the street towards home and she wouldn’t have noticed if a UFO shot right out of the sky and took out the nearest building.
She was too busy waging an internal war with herself.
She couldn’t believe she’d let him touch her. She, the slayer, protector of humanity, the one who was expected to represent all that’s good and pure, was willing allowing a completely soulless, bloodsucking demon to put his grubby little hands all over her. And not just on her, he’d been all over her, inside her, everywhere at once and she’d graciously accepted it, reciprocated it tenfold. And she’d done so on far more than one occasion. She was sick.
Each time she did it she felt dirty, as if she’d never be able to wash the scent of him off her. There was a part of her that wished it wouldn’t be possible to do so, that his smell would simply cling to her skin till the very flesh rotted off her bones. How sick was that? How completely fucked up could she possibly get? Because honestly, what kind of person did this sort of thing? What kind of woman got off on letting a monster who’d killed hundreds, probably thousands, fuck her senseless? It was disturbing and wrong, it was disgusting was what it was. And it was exactly what she wanted to do over and over again.
She hated herself for it but deep down she knew it was true. She wanted him; she wanted Spike and everything he had to offer her. And it absolutely terrified her. Knowing it made her sick to her stomach. What the hell was she supposed to do now? She didn’t want to allow herself to stoop low enough to let him touch her again, but she was almost certain that she’d never wanted or needed something so badly in her life.
He was a demon for Christ sakes, a soulless vampire who claimed the impossible. He swore up and down that he loved her; that he’d die for her if she’d only ask as much of him, show him even a smidgen of affection. But no matter how many times he said it she wouldn’t believe it. You needed a soul in order to love someone and a soul was something he just didn’t have. He was a monster. A creature of the profoundly immoral designed solely to bring about death, destruction, and chaos.
Her eyes filled with the thought. If she truly believed that description to be exactly who and what he was, and she wanted him, what did that make her? If he was nothing but a monster, didn’t that make her even worse for craving him? Yes. Of course it did. Why wouldn’t it? Clearly she was fucked up.
But maybe it wasn’t her fault… Maybe Spike was right and she’d come back from heaven wrong somehow. If that was the case then she could live with it. Because it wasn’t her fault, not her doing, something else had made her do it. She’d have an excuse to keep doing it. God, she was such a mess, so totally terrified and lost. What would she do if there was nothing wrong with her? What if the whole thing really was her own doing? No… That wasn’t possible. It wasn’t even something she was going to allow herself to think about.
Quickening her pace she wrapped her coat tighter around herself. She needed to get home, home was quiet and safe and deserted and at the moment she could think of nothing she desired more. Except maybe him, but even as that thought crossed her mind it was accompanied by a barrage of guilt, self loathing and pity. There had to be something wrong with her. Something must have gone horribly wrong the night Willow had managed to drag her back to the living. Why else would she have allowed Spike to get that close to her? What else could have possibly made her act the way she had, the way she continued to act? It just didn’t make sense, nothing seemed to anymore.
With tears blurring her vision she tried shoving her key into the front door three times before she hit the keyhole. Once inside she took a deep calming breath and leaned back against the now closed door. What the hell was she even doing? What good was coming home to mope in her room going to do her? Yes, last night had been a total shit fest. She’d somehow managed to have a complete breakdown, almost confess to a murder she hadn’t committed, and beat the living shit out of a vampire who honestly believed he was in love with her. But crying about it now wasn’t going to solve anything. What she needed to do was call Tara; Tara would have all the answers.
Tara would tell her yes, she’d indeed been brought back all wrong and screwy. It wasn’t her fault that she’d been screwing Spike, not that Tara actually knew that but that wasn’t the point. She’d tell her that it wasn’t her fault that she’d come back different and it wasn’t her fault that she felt so distant and disconnected from everyone around her, everyone except him anyway… Christ, what was wrong with her?! Here she was pining away over an evil, bloodthirsty vampire who was probably currently busy licking his wounds and cursing her name. She had to have come back wrong, there was no other explanation.
With her tears blinked away and her nerves slightly calmer she headed for the kitchen telephone. She was going to figure this out and it was going to be now. Picking it up and quickly went through the directory and clicked Tara’s number.
One ring, two, three, click.
“Hello?”
“Tara? Yeah, it’s Buffy…”
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AN: Okay, so I wasn't sure if I should end the chapter there but to be honest I was too frustrated to care lol This is beacuse of the annoying fact that I know exactly where I wanna go with this fic but I have no freaking idea how to get there. *sigh* Alright, so if this gets some decent reviews and if I EVER manage to figure out how to take it where I want to go, I'll hopefully be updating soon lol. Hope you guys enjoyed it.
NOTE: This fanfic takes place sometime during Season 6 near the end of episode 12 ‘Dead Things’ right before Buffy & Tara talk. Also, it hasn't been beta read and as such I appoligize for any errors. Oh yeah, and please review haha.
WARNING: It is more than likely that there will be spoilers from seasons 1 through 6 involved so if you don’t wanna know anything about them then I suggest turning back now, otherwise enjoy!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
OVERCOME
Speed walking down a dark but quiet little Sunnydale street with her tiny leather coat pulled tight around her and her cropped blond hair flying every which way, was a very disturbed little woman. To the common passerby she’d have seemed to be a bit troubled but not seemingly by anything too devastating.
Anyone who would think this had clearly never met Buffy Summers.
There she was, storming down the street towards home and she wouldn’t have noticed if a UFO shot right out of the sky and took out the nearest building.
She was too busy waging an internal war with herself.
She couldn’t believe she’d let him touch her. She, the slayer, protector of humanity, the one who was expected to represent all that’s good and pure, was willing allowing a completely soulless, bloodsucking demon to put his grubby little hands all over her. And not just on her, he’d been all over her, inside her, everywhere at once and she’d graciously accepted it, reciprocated it tenfold. And she’d done so on far more than one occasion. She was sick.
Each time she did it she felt dirty, as if she’d never be able to wash the scent of him off her. There was a part of her that wished it wouldn’t be possible to do so, that his smell would simply cling to her skin till the very flesh rotted off her bones. How sick was that? How completely fucked up could she possibly get? Because honestly, what kind of person did this sort of thing? What kind of woman got off on letting a monster who’d killed hundreds, probably thousands, fuck her senseless? It was disturbing and wrong, it was disgusting was what it was. And it was exactly what she wanted to do over and over again.
She hated herself for it but deep down she knew it was true. She wanted him; she wanted Spike and everything he had to offer her. And it absolutely terrified her. Knowing it made her sick to her stomach. What the hell was she supposed to do now? She didn’t want to allow herself to stoop low enough to let him touch her again, but she was almost certain that she’d never wanted or needed something so badly in her life.
He was a demon for Christ sakes, a soulless vampire who claimed the impossible. He swore up and down that he loved her; that he’d die for her if she’d only ask as much of him, show him even a smidgen of affection. But no matter how many times he said it she wouldn’t believe it. You needed a soul in order to love someone and a soul was something he just didn’t have. He was a monster. A creature of the profoundly immoral designed solely to bring about death, destruction, and chaos.
Her eyes filled with the thought. If she truly believed that description to be exactly who and what he was, and she wanted him, what did that make her? If he was nothing but a monster, didn’t that make her even worse for craving him? Yes. Of course it did. Why wouldn’t it? Clearly she was fucked up.
But maybe it wasn’t her fault… Maybe Spike was right and she’d come back from heaven wrong somehow. If that was the case then she could live with it. Because it wasn’t her fault, not her doing, something else had made her do it. She’d have an excuse to keep doing it. God, she was such a mess, so totally terrified and lost. What would she do if there was nothing wrong with her? What if the whole thing really was her own doing? No… That wasn’t possible. It wasn’t even something she was going to allow herself to think about.
Quickening her pace she wrapped her coat tighter around herself. She needed to get home, home was quiet and safe and deserted and at the moment she could think of nothing she desired more. Except maybe him, but even as that thought crossed her mind it was accompanied by a barrage of guilt, self loathing and pity. There had to be something wrong with her. Something must have gone horribly wrong the night Willow had managed to drag her back to the living. Why else would she have allowed Spike to get that close to her? What else could have possibly made her act the way she had, the way she continued to act? It just didn’t make sense, nothing seemed to anymore.
With tears blurring her vision she tried shoving her key into the front door three times before she hit the keyhole. Once inside she took a deep calming breath and leaned back against the now closed door. What the hell was she even doing? What good was coming home to mope in her room going to do her? Yes, last night had been a total shit fest. She’d somehow managed to have a complete breakdown, almost confess to a murder she hadn’t committed, and beat the living shit out of a vampire who honestly believed he was in love with her. But crying about it now wasn’t going to solve anything. What she needed to do was call Tara; Tara would have all the answers.
Tara would tell her yes, she’d indeed been brought back all wrong and screwy. It wasn’t her fault that she’d been screwing Spike, not that Tara actually knew that but that wasn’t the point. She’d tell her that it wasn’t her fault that she’d come back different and it wasn’t her fault that she felt so distant and disconnected from everyone around her, everyone except him anyway… Christ, what was wrong with her?! Here she was pining away over an evil, bloodthirsty vampire who was probably currently busy licking his wounds and cursing her name. She had to have come back wrong, there was no other explanation.
With her tears blinked away and her nerves slightly calmer she headed for the kitchen telephone. She was going to figure this out and it was going to be now. Picking it up and quickly went through the directory and clicked Tara’s number.
One ring, two, three, click.
“Hello?”
“Tara? Yeah, it’s Buffy…”
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AN: Okay, so I wasn't sure if I should end the chapter there but to be honest I was too frustrated to care lol This is beacuse of the annoying fact that I know exactly where I wanna go with this fic but I have no freaking idea how to get there. *sigh* Alright, so if this gets some decent reviews and if I EVER manage to figure out how to take it where I want to go, I'll hopefully be updating soon lol. Hope you guys enjoyed it.