Notes: Post "Wrecked" Pre "Gone"
Disclaimer: Joss is God. The characters are his. I'm merely having fun with them.
He looked at her for a moment. He could see the fright in her eyes. He could see it creeping up on her. Her cheeks were flushed with it. He would have taken pleasure in the fear if he thought it was him she was afraid of, but he knew better.
She glared at him trying to stay calm, quickly pulling a tattered blanket around her. She started to speak, thought better of it and looked around the room for her clothes.
Why do I keep doing this, she thought. But it was the question she would never ask him. He thought he knew, he was that arrogant, and that galled her to no end. Even now he was starting to smile like a child with a secret.
"Off again, luv?" Spike said casually, with a bit of a lilt on 'off.'
"Shut up, Spike."
It was a mantra she repeated when he started to say things she didn't like. Unfortunately, it seldom worked. This time proved no different.
"I just thought we could play footsie or read the paper together before you go."
He was grinning now, satisfied with his barb.
She hated that grin. It made her furious. She tried to ignore him gathering the blanket about her, preparing to leave the warm bed and hunt for her clothes. If she only had her clothes, she thought. But before she could escape he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him.
"Spike," Buffy hissed with warning, but he wasn't paying heed. This was the part he looked forward to. Some part of him knew he wanted a different ending, though he didn't know what that was yet. It confused him, and seared his brain like that chip in his head whenever he tried to think of it. So, like most days, he chose to ignore the problem and act on instinct. Instinct as a vampire kept him alive for over a hundred and twenty-five years. He had learned to go with it.
"Now, now Slayer. Is that anyway to talk to your man?" Spike said, his grin widening, almost leering.
Buffy's eyes flared--YOUR MAN! Seething with anger she ripped free from his grasp and lunged for a lamp intending to smash that stupid grin off his face. But he was faster, expecting the violence, if not the ferocity, and seized her wrist again, causing the lamp to slip and crash to the floor.
The sound of the glass shattering momentarily startled Buffy out of her anger. She looked at him. He wasn't grinning anymore. He was just staring at her, curiously, as if he were studying her. She liked it better when he was leering.
"Let me go, Spike," Buffy said flatly, trying to stay calm. She was bothered that he could get a rise out of her whenever he wanted and was determined to leave cold, calm, collected--the three "c's." Oh, and clothes. Make that four "c's."
"Of course, luv," he said genteelly, releasing her.
She paused a moment, confused. Why was he relenting? But she didn't pause long. Buffy knew better than to give an enemy a second chance. Even if that enemy was her lover. She scrambled quickly off the bed and found her clothes. She could feel his eyes on her as she dressed. It made her feel cheap. But when she turned to voice her outrage he was standing there, looking at her, watching intently.
"I'm not coming back again, Spike. This was it. No more."
Spike just smiled, saying nothing. It was starting to make sense to him. He was beginning to understand, but he wasn't going to tell her yet. Not yet.
For Buffy, that smile made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
"I mean it. I can't stand being with you anymore. It disgusts me. I hate it...and I hate you."
She was getting desperate. They could both feel it.
Buffy hated that look in his eyes and that awful smile. The fear was back again. She lashed out with it like a whip.
"You're just convenient. That's all you've ever been."
But it didn't reach him. That smile--all she could see was that smile and his eyes, his laughing eyes.
"I love you," he said simply, still smiling.
"I hate you," she said, intensely afraid now. She wanted to run. She was about to bolt for the door when he pulled her roughly into his arms.