first_summers | Riverview >> Inbox

Do you?

[He couldn't really help himself. He wasn't souled, but he'd had that bloody dream. He was still Spike, still the vampire that pushed those little limits he'd been given. His hand raised, as if to tuck her hair behind her ear. Testing.]

Yes.

[ She doesn't hesitate to answer, and she doesn't move an inch. If he wants to touch her, he can -- she'll stop him before anything goes too far, but she trusts that that won't happen. Spike has always pressed boundaries and danced around lines drawn in the sand, but there had only ever been once that he'd hurt her unforgivably, and those circumstances aren't going to be repeated here. ]

[If she wasn't confusing him, wasn't touching him, loving him, making him want her, and then kicking her from him, he wouldn't sink to those depths. He hoped. He remembered her telling him that, what he'd done -- or tried to do. He hesitated for a moment before he tucked those few tendrils behind her ear. Soft blonde waves against his finger, and he realized he'd stilled, as if he'd expected her to hit him away.]

What if I wanted a taste?

[Of what was anyone's guess, really. But it was part of that game, part of the spell he felt caught up in just then.]

[ It takes more strength than she'd thought she had left in her to keep from closing her eyes and savoring that small touch. The tiniest connection -- and she wishes it could last forever. But it can't, because he's not hers and all she has it hope. ]

I'd let you.

[If his heart could beat, it'd be pounding in his chest. As it was, his pupils dilated, eyes flicking down to the pulse he could see fluttering in her throat, then along the line of her jaw to her lips. Both were tempting.]

I didn't say what I wanted a taste of.

[ Her heart does beat, but Buffy is as calm as she's ever been, like the center of a storm where everything is still while the rest of the world is destroyed around her. Her eyes watch Spike's, follow the way they trail along her skin. ]

I trust you.

[It wasn't just what she said, but how she said it. Like she was trying to force him to believe it. Like it mattered to her that he did. His hand lifted again, finger tracing over the line of her pulse before he moved it up along the path his eyes had traveled. Up her throat, up along the edge of her jaw, stopping just shy of the corner of her lips.]

Maybe I don't trust myself.

Then what will you do?

[ Because she's not going to help him with this. It's his decision -- though she knows what she'd like his choice to be. ]

You...

[He paused, finger curling away from her face, but his hand not lowering.]

You said I did something. Tried to. Tried to hurt you in a monstrous way. You'd still let me- You'd want me to touch you?

[ Her breath hitches and she closes her eyes, fighting against the stinging of tears. He won't understand if she cries now. ]

I fell in love with you after that day.

[He moves, hand with his glass moving to set it down on the table before he stands, moving to the front of her before he knelt down, not touching her. Not yet. Just looking up at her with that mix of confusion, hope, fear, and maybe a little regret there as he did.]

How? How could you love someone that would do that?

[ No. No, of all the things for him to do, to ask, why did it have to be this. She shakes her head and the tears are suddenly there, her vision of him swimming before they slip down her cheeks. ]

You loved me after the horrible things I did to you. We forgave each other.

[His hand did lift then, thumb sweeping away the tears that trickled down her cheeks. His smile was soft, but there was a pain to it, a pricking in his own eyes as he thought back in his life, thought about all the love he'd thought he'd had.]

You've always had shit taste in men, love.

[ It's instinctual the way she tilts her head toward his touch, wanting just that little bit more of it while she has it. His smile breaks her heart, because she's missed it more than she'll ever be able to explain to him, likely more than he'd ever believe possible. ]

It's not one of my better superpowers.

[He could feel the wet on his skin from her tears, cupping her cheek carefully as if he still expected her to draw away.]

Seems that's something we have in common.

[ She can't stop herself from lifting her own hand to wrap her fingers around his wrist, keeping him in place. ]

If you don't want this, I'll understand. I don't want to push you. It's your choice, Spike, and I'll respect it. You don't even have to make it now.

[ But she might never recover from being rejected by him too. ]

I don't have a soul, you know that. I don't know if I will. I don't know if... if I'll be that man you think you lost. I am what I am, Buffy. Just like this.

I know that.

[ But if things are different, maybe they'll be different. All she has is hope. ]

And you'd still want me? Soulless, demon vampire. You still think you could love this?

I'd like to try.

[ It's the best she can offer him. The man before her isn't the one she fell for, but that man's in there somewhere. ]

And what if I still wanted that taste?

[His eyes went to her lips this time, lingering there for a moment before he met those blue eyes of her staring down at him.]

My answer hasn't changed.

[ But now her heart is starting to beat a little faster, and she's sure he'll hear it. ]

[He does. He can almost feel it in the thrum of her skin against his fingers and it makes that very male part of who he is feel tempted. He leans in, lifting up from where he'd been sitting on his knees, leaning in until his chest it butting up against hers where she sits, thumb tracing just over her cheek.]

You sure about that?

[His eyes are on her lips again, the question quiet as he feels a sort of heavy anticipation weigh on him. On them both.]

[ It's hard to breathe with him so close, and honestly she's not even sure that she does once that weight settles around them. The seconds tick by like hours and she feels each one as it adds to the pressure. ]

Yes.

[ It's barely a sound let alone a word, but it's all she can manage and it takes all her effort not to close the gap between them. This is his choice and he's the one who has to make it, regardless of what she wants. ]

[He leans in, close, closer, hand moving to let his thumb trace just around the corner of those pink lips. Close enough that he swears he can taste her when he breathes in -- a breath he doesn't need, but it drags her scent into him and clings in his lungs like a living thing.

He wants. He's selfish and without his soul, and even knowing that he'd tried something, or some version of him had tried something horrible, he couldn't deny that he wants her. That hearing her take in that breath because of him wasn't intoxicating. Not fear, no... he could scent pheromones on her, something like a want of her own wafting up from her and he rested his other hand on her knee.]

I'm not a good man, Buffy. I might never be.

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