Epiphany

Spike. What can I say about Spike?

Shall I begin with his tacky choice of clothing or his horrible fashion disaster of a head? I mean, he still dresses like the David Bowie of the seventies--and David Bowie himself gave up on the peroxide and tight leather pants after nineteen ninety six. He also has this weird British accent thing going on with him--come on, Spike, you’ve been in the states for how long now? Pick up the American Lingo, will you?

I just don’t like the guy.

He’s cold blooded, my worst enemy and the vain of my existence and yet I cannot stay away from him. It’s like we’re magnets being drawn to each other by the physics of it all. Why? I don’t necessarily know and if I did I surely wouldn’t have let it go on for this long. Every time he’s near me it’s like I want to shove a stake though his heart, but not before participating in mindless, animalistic sex. It’s as if I enjoy whatever dirty fantasy that he’s concocted with the magic’s that I’m sure he’s used against me. I hate him. And yet, I don’t hate him.

It all started a few weeks after Angel left me. We discovered each other for the first time a couple weeks before graduation and he ended up losing his soul. Apparently, if Angel experiences even a moment of pure happiness he is cursed to turn evil again, resulting in temporary insanity. He tried killing Giles and once we cured him and restored his soul we both knew that it was best for him to go. I felt as though my heart was beating out of my chest when Angel told me goodbye. I was in my prom dress and he was in his rented tux, handsomer than ever and despite him being the walking dead he was the best looking fellow there. And I loved him more than anything else at that moment because I knew that I would never love as deeply again.

He walked out of my life and I told myself that I wouldn’t make the mistake of falling in love with my work. My destiny is to kill vampires and like the disaster that I am I chose to become romantically involved with one. I reminded myself that I was going against everything that the slayer was meant to be. And here I am. And there I was, just a few days ago, only a short while after my heart was ripped out of my chest, fighting Spike. He threw me against walls and caused internal bleeding and called me a series of derogatory names. He choked me and made me feel defenseless and no matter how hard I try I cannot deny his strength. He belittled me and made it known that I was still, no matter how much I forgot at times, just a human. And that made me, hot?

I don’t know who exactly made the move, but one moment I’m beating Spikes face in and then the next he’s on top of me and his lips are on my lips. You would think that a creature who’s been dead for centuries would taste of dirt and in Spikes case, blood, but it was sweeter than ever. I was lost in it and I was drowning in his flavor and I was memorizing his touch before it even happened. I let go of everything and we put our differences aside for the simplicity of bringing two sexual beings together.

He slapped me a couple of times and I locked my legs around him to flip him over, hoping to gain at least a little bit of control of the situation-but he wouldn’t let me. He wasn’t going to no matter how hard I tried and I think that’s what drove me to complete the act with him.

When he entered me I gripped the stake even tighter, eventually snapping it in half. Spike grunted his approval and nipped at my neck and I could feel the tiny wombs that he was creating, but I continued to move under him. My body was on fire and his body as cold as ice cooled me down each and every time I felt like combusting. He grabbed my hips and dug his sharp nails into them and I moaned like a filthy whore; I gave myself to him completely. I became wild and uninhibited and for each thrust I dragged him into me, into my soul. And as he licked the tiny specs of blood off of my neck I could feel him pulsing through my veins. It was everything I knew it would be.

Over and over again Spike brought me to climax with his tongue and his hips and his guttural moans of pleasure. Sweat dripped off of his body onto my own and it burned like I wanted it to. It soaked into my skin and he became a part of me. His eyes glowed and my hands roamed and finally he gave a final thrust, followed by the an intense growl that started from the pit of his stomach.

“Spike…”

“Yes, Buffy?” He moaned.

“Lets do it again.”