we touch the fire's Journal

Poison running through my veins.
Your cruel device//Your blood, like ice//One look could kill//My pain, your thrill

The slayer was always there, taunting his every thought. It started off as a simple obsession to kill her but ended up something much more. There was always something different about Buffy Summers, something that set her apart from other slayers. One being the fact that she had family and friends, that wasn’t the way it was suppose to be. That’s the only reason why Spike never killed her, that time in the school so long ago he was about ready to kill her until her mother came out of no where. If things were the way they were supposed to be, that would have never happened. Then again Spike couldn’t help but be glad he never killed her, at times that is. Sometimes he wished nothing more then to kill her and other times he wished he could be inside of her feeling every bit of her against himself.

I want to love you but I better not touch//I want to hold you but my senses tell me to stop//I want to kiss you but I want it too much//I want to taste you but your lips are venomous poison//You’re poison running through my veins// You’re poison//I don’t want to break these chains

The slayer was poison to the neutered vampire. Didn’t matter much what he did she was always there; consuming his thoughts each and every waken moment. He tired countless times to get her out of his head, even went to kill her before. Didn’t matter much to him about the chip, what a little bit of pain would be worth getting rid of Buffy. But no, he always had to go soft in those moments. Something about the look her eyes, what it did to him when his eyes met up with hers.

It truly was pathetic, the once William the Bloody who terrorized Europe was chained to the slayer. He followed her around like a lovesick puppy and he knew it to but he couldn’t break the chains that she kept around him. He enjoyed it to much, especially after the kiss they shared while everyone else was getting their kumbiyas out. After that he wouldn’t stop till he got what he wanted.

Your mouth, so hot//Your web, I’m caught//Your skin, so wet//Black lace on sweat//I hear you calling and its needles//And pins//I want to hurt you just to hear you screaming my name

Her mouth so warm as his lips touched upon them, he could feel her blood boiling deep inside calling him to enter. Of course like anything with Buffy she couldn’t make up her damn mind. She tried to tell him that it meant nothing but he knew better, he was going to get what he wanted from her one way or the other. And the best part about it was that the slayer came back wrong.

Spike realized that he could hit her without getting a shot of pain in the head. First he figured the chip just didn’t work anymore. He hid what happened from Buffy and went to find out what was going on. Turns out the chip still worked, it was Buffy that was damaged. Spike planned to have fun with that, he ended up getting way more then he expected.

Being able to push Buffy back and show her who she was truly messing with seemed to get to her. And finally she consumed to the darkness of the night. She was a rough little vixen to. Spike always knew that the only thing better then killing a slayer would be fucking one. Course though Buffy woke up shocked that the thing even happened. Spike should’ve seen that one coming, she always did have a way of playing mind tricks on him. She’d make him think that just maybe there was something there then the next minute turn around anything and everything she did or said acting like she hated the poor bloke. But this time she couldn’t run away from what happened, Spike was going to show her just how much she needs him.

Pale white digits grip the soft leather of his black duster as he grabs hold of the thing. Quickly he pulls it up over his shoulders and slips his arms though. He was going to find the slayer wherever she was and give her a piece of his mind. Proceeding to the door as he violently shoved the thing open. He stood there for a moment, before stepping out, taking in the nights air. The smell of decay that consumed his surroundings from all the rioting bodies that were buried beneath the ground, that mixed with the smell of ran. An unusual smell but one he was used to, one that only a vampire could pick up.

Finally he stepped out the door, black army boots making contact with the wet grass. He was a mission, a mission he was determined to fulfill once he found the slayer.