first_summers | Riverview >> Inbox

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.

[ She wants him, wants to feel his lips on hers again, to breathe him in as she had just weeks ago and lose herself in the close intimacy of the moment. But even with his hand on her in such innocent ways, weaving a spell of distraction around her as the world narrows to just the two of them, that spell is spoken when he makes that assertion. Because she can't brush those words aside or leave them as they are, she has to say something. Softly, gently, with a lightest squeeze to his wrist. ]

You don't have to be a good person to do good things, Spike. You did before you got your soul back. You can be whoever you want to be here.

[It almost hurts to hear her say something like that about him. To know that even though both of them had hated the other at various times, even all that pain and torment they'd caused one another, she was capable of being nicer to him than anyone who'd ever professed to love him or be loved by him. His heart couldn't beat, but he could still feel, and he felt the pricking at the corners of his eyes before he closed them and leaned in, closing the gap between them until he could feel the press of lips against his.

It wouldn't be the first time they'd kissed; there'd been Willow's spell, after all, but it would be the first, for him, where he did it on his own out of want. Because it was what he wanted, and there was that thin line of something close to fear running through him to know that maybe... maybe she wanted it as much as he did.]

[ The entire world stopped, shattered, and rebuilt itself in those first seconds. They felt like hours and yet no time at all as she struggled to grasp that this was really happening. She couldn't believe that this was Spike, alive and kissing her. Weeks of agonizing grief swelled up within her, not so easily appeased by a moment of pleasure, and tears stung at her eyes, welling up behind closed lids before slipping free and sliding down her face.

And then she moves. Forward, closer, pressing their lips more firmly together, Their lips, chests, her skin on fire wherever they touch. One hand clings to his arm while the other reaches up to hook around his neck, her thumb tracing that strong jaw. Breathing is a thing of the past. ]

[That, he hadn't expected. He'd expected-- no, hoped for tolerance. To not get slapped, or hurt, or pushed away. To have her press closer, to cling to him like she needed him... Him! Like he was something worth holding onto... it hurt, but in the sweetest, most tantalizing way.

He couldn't help but respond to it, drawing in that heat and need and sliding his arms around her, drawing her almost off the edge of the bed and into his lap as he tips his chin up to kiss her, opens his mouth to consume her.]

[ It will take him almost no effort to move her, she goes so willingly toward his touch, every fiber of her being spiraling from the knowledge that he's there and this is real. This isn't the heartbreaking dream she'd had so many times of finding him again, of having her partner back. Even if it's not her version of him, it's still Spike.

Her hands release him long enough to resituate, her arms wrapping around his shoulders like he's the only thing keeping her from floating away. He's the center of her gravity, a star burning hot enough to consume her. But it's what she wants, and she meets that kiss with a desperation born not of trying to lose herself in him, but in trying to find them, a hint of what they were and could be. A sound emerges from the back of her throat, a quiet whimper pleading for this to never end, please be real, don't leave her again. ]

[He hears a sound, a needy little whine, and he growls low in his chest, hunger filling him like its own living thing. Contrary to him being an undead demon, Spike's only ever craved one thing without exception. Love.

While he's still not entirely sure that that's what this is, that he has a chance at something that's always been held just out of reach, he wants it. He leans back, sits on his heels as he drags her into his lap, a hand sliding down to hold her by her hip. His heart's not pounding like it would be if he were alive, but his body's thrumming, singing with a need that has his fingers shaking as he touches her.]

[ She can feel that shaking in his touch, the vibration humming along her skin and cooling the fire within her. As much as she wants it to be now, fast, all-consuming, that's not the best thing for them now. For him. That's what they'd done the first time around, and even setting aside her myriad of emotional issues at the time, he deserves so much more than that now.

So she pulls back, slowly and purposefully, just enough to be able to breathe a declaration onto his skin. ]

I love you.

[ It doesn't matter that he's not her Spike, that they have no idea what they're doing with this, none of that changes what she feels. He's Spike, and she will love him until she takes her final breathe. ]

[Her words cut worse than any knife he's ever felt, any ray of sun that's burned over his skin. It blisters and stings and has him faltering, panting against her lips, hands holding her in an almost painful grip as he sits there, drawing back enough to look up at her. There's wet around his eyes, tears leaked out over the corners that trail down the sides of his face, tears matched by hers as he blinks up at her.]

No, you don't.

[She can't. No matter what she says, no matter what he's done, she can't love him. It's too impossible.]

[ His words break her heart and bring a fresh wave of tears as her throat tightens at the memory of when she's last heard him say those words. When they'd said goodbye and he'd given his life for all of them, for the entire world. She can still feel his hand in hers, that pain of losing him still lingering despite his being right there in front of her. ]

You said that before you died, when I told you for the first time. You were wrong then and you're wrong now.

[ The words are cracked and frayed by emotion, her tone almost pleading with him to believe her. She doesn't know if he did before and was just... putting on a brave face in the moment, or if he truly hadn't believed that she'd loved him. Whichever it was, he has to believe her now. ]

I love you, Spike.

[He laughed, but it was a pained sound. Something to show those broken bits still floated around inside him.]

No, Pet, you don't. You can't. I'm... You're sunlight and what's supposed to be good in the world. You do something because it's right, even if it hurts. I'm... me. I'm a demon. I'm selfish and I take what I want because I want it. I'm not him, Buffy. I'll never be him.

[And that's what it boiled down to. He'd never be Angel. Not enough for Dru and not enough for her.]

[ Those broken bits fit so well against her own, she just has to show him that. She has to prove it, and as much as that hurts, she can understand it. He doesn't have the years that she does, the memories and heartache and revelations. So she doesn't snap, or argue, or push him away in frustration. She frames his jaw with her hands and tries again. ]

I love you, Spike. You remind me of what it is to be alive. You give me the strength to keep fighting when I don't have anything else. I need you, Spike, I choose you.

[ She'd choose him even if Angel were there. ]

[Oh, he wanted to believe her. He wanted it so much that every part of him vibrated. His hands shook where he held her again, grip almost too tight, too painful for even her before he remembered himself. That pained laugh turned to something so helpless, so open and raw that he had no control over it. Just long, quiet breaths his dead body didn't need anymore to try to keep himself in one piece.]

You don't know how much I want to believe that...

[ She doesn't react to the discomfort of his touch even as it borders being too much, because she know he doesn't mean it. He's lost in his own head, fighting ghosts and pain that should never have been inflicted. ]

It's okay that you don't.

[ The moment she says it, her voice as reassuring as she can make it, she knows it's true. There's no rush, there isn't an impending apocalypse and neither of them are going anywhere anytime soon. What's a few more days, even weeks? He's alive, so to speak, and that's all that matters. ]

You can take your time. We can-- get to know each other again. You can make your own choice; mine isn't going to change.

I think we already know each other more than well at this point.

[He'd stalked her. Hunted her. Tried to kill her. Hung on the fringes of her little group for longer than he'd expected to be allowed to. He knew her. That's what made all of this so hard to believe. Still... maybe there was some truth to that. Maybe he didn't know her as well as he thought if she could sit there on his lap like that, looking at him like he was... worthy.]

Humor me, then? I didn't get to do this the right way the first time around.

[ She tries to make it a joke, but it's weak in the face of the truth of her statement. Everything about their beginning had been wrong, and they both deserve better this time. More than just passion for passion's sake, they both deserve love. Whether they can manage to make it work... that'll remain to be seen. ]

What are you suggesting? Moonlit walks on the beach? Dates?

[Not that he'd be against any of that. In fact, it might almost be a nice change from blood and gore and pain. Funny how there was a possibility of a bit of a normal life for him after he'd died.]

[ She gives a little shrug at that, but there's a smile curling at the corner of her lips as she does. It's an amusing idea, but also a pretty damn nice one. ]

Our 'dates' used to involve hunting demons or training Potentials. A beach might be kinda nice. Or even just watching TV in your crypt.

[ Because she knows he has a setup there. ]

They don't have Passions here...

[Said almost wistfully, but he lifts a hand from its death grip on her hip to stroke against the side of her hair, watching her with a sort of curious fascination.]

A date, eh? They've got pools, you know. Out past the city. Out in the jungle. I'd tell anyone else not to bother, what with it being all dangerous and all, but you... well. You can take care of yourself, can't you.

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