herself_nyc (herself_nyc) wrote in herself_nyc_fic, @ 2007-08-30 21:46:00 |
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"Come away with me, Miss Anne. Let's just go. I'll take you to Mexico, like we'd planned, or anywhere."
"Stop it."
"Know you're not happy here. Why won't you come with me?"
Buffy only shook her head. Her lashes were still webbed with tears, but when he drew her head down again against his shoulder, she offered no resistance, cuddling closer.
"None of this was in the brochure," he murmured. "Slayer havin' dominion over vampire's souls. Over their hearts. Undone me, you have. Ripped me up an' ruined me." He didn't know how to feel, how to cope with this pitch of tenderness mixed as it was with a needling fury too. She was so powerful. Her power drew him and repelled him, inspired and terrified. And yet she'd just shown him at the same time all her womanly warmth, a sweetness that swamped his senses, struck his mind dumb even as it filled with tangled curlicues of praise he longed to purr into her ear. He'd been so sure before he knew all about love, but this showed him up for an amateur.
He wasn't prepared for how she moved him. Her raw turmoil, unrestrained by pride, her breathless capitulation to desire. So tightly had he screwed himself to the idea of revenge for poor Dru, making up for his losses and getting his evil on, that he'd missed completely how lost he was to her. Not until he began to fight her did he understand that he was never going to kill herthat all he wanted was to touch her, to have all her attention. That being near her again gave him the sensation of fitness he'd been galloping after all this time.
But then he'd always been one who went in for self-delusion. It was self-delusion that turned him undeadthe last and largest delusion of a whole deluded life.
"Yeah, well, it wasn't in my damn brochure either."
"Listen"
"No." She pushed him away. "I can't listen, and I can't do this again, and I can't be with you. No fooling this time, Spike. I don't want to have to slay you, or see you slain. You've got to get out of Sunnydale."
"Not foolin' either. Takin' you with me."
"No." She was rising slowly to her feet, looking around for her jeans. Even disheveled as she was, there was nothing about her that wasn't full of dignity, beauty, and that wonderful awful power. He couldn't look at her enough. He felt he had to look at her forever.
"Why not? Were keen enough a few weeks ago."
"That was before you sent me home." She gave out a long slurpy sniffle, and wiped at her nose with one sleeve. "Don't ask me anymore. Don'tdon'tdon't anything. I have to go."
"Can't let you." He reached out and grasped her ankle, but as soon as he caught it in his hand, turned his grip into a caress. "Slayer ...."
The look she gave him! It nearly brought him to tears.
"Why didn't you bite me when I asked you! You ... you were so sure, back there, that I would!"
He remembered now. It seemed like another life. "Don't want you undead. Want you as you are."
"This is so fucked up! You hate me. You're supposed to want to kill me. You're evil." It almost sounded like a plea.
"Evil, yeah."
"This isn't going to happen again."
"Sweetness, let's just!"
She'd been skinning into her jeans. Now she broke into a run without another word, without even giving a parting look. Propped on his elbow, Spike watched her sprint away and vault the cemetery wall. Her scent lingered for a moment on the air, but she didn't reappear. Just gone. Dawn was encroaching. He picked himself up, glancing around for anything she might've left behind, deliberately or by accident, that he could seize on to keep until he saw her again. He would see her again. There was no question of obeying her, if obedience meant departure.
Her panties, torn into one unwearable strip, had fallen off behind the tombstone. He grabbed up the silky bit of nylon, brought it to his nose for a long grateful sniff before stuffing it into his pocket.
TBC ....