All About Spike - Plain Version
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Chapter: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15
RATING: NC-17 overall
SPOILERS: Season 6 through “As You Were”.
DISCLAIMER: All hail Joss Whedon, UPN, the WB, FOX, Mutant Enemy and 20th
Century Fox Film Corporation. GO team! Theirs, not mine.
DEDICATION: For Mint Witch, who reminded me that it’s all about the
journey, not the destination.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Lyrics to “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails used without
DISTRIBUTION: Please ask my permission first, just so I know where it’s
FEEDBACK: Sure, fire away to firstname.lastname@example.org
Tara stood in front of the stove and peered into a brimming pot of tomato
sauce. She dipped her finger in and tasted it. Satisfied, she pulled a
colander from the dishwasher and set it in the sink. Plumes of fragrant
steam furled up when she emptied the spaghetti into it to drain. I put down
the place mats on the table and set out the dishes and silverware. “Where’s
the corkscrew, love?”
She pulled it out from the drawer and tossed it carefully to me. I uncorked
a bottle of merlot and poured us each a glass. Next, I placed a tall pair
of silver candlesticks with beeswax tapers on the table and lit them
carefully with my lighter, before sitting down to sip my wine and watch her
putter around in the kitchen. She was smiling to herself, her hair pulled
up in a clip. It seemed so surreal, this domestic scene that surrounded me.
Tara walked over and handed me a plate of spaghetti. She set hers down as
well and smiled at me. ”Thanks for dinner, pet,” I said with a grin.
“No big deal,” she said as she unfolded her napkin. “Anyone can make
I raised my glass in a toast. “To Tara, without whom I’d mostly likely be
driving drunk in the middle of the desert.”
“To Spike, for saving me from cockroaches and dirty old men,” she said with
a smile. We clinked glasses.
I shook Parmesan all over my pasta and took a big bite. “This is
unbelievable, Tara. God, I missed your cooking.”
“I liked it when you used to come over for dinner with Dawn and Will and I.
I never understood why you didn’t come to the house any more after we
brought Buffy back.” She took a bite of spaghetti. I shrugged, pretending
to be very interested in my food. She gave me a serious look. “I wish that
you would open up to me. I would really like to know why you were going to
leave, what happened with Buffy.”
“The details aren’t important,” I said. I put down my fork and crossed my
arms across my chest. “What I want to know is why you care.” She looked at
me, startled. “Why would it even matter to you if I left or stayed?”
She toyed with her wineglass. “I could tell you, but I don’t think you want
to hear it.”
“I’m a big, strong man. I can take it.” I tried to stare her down,
She looked at me with sadness in her eyes. “You’ve always seemed so sure of
yourself, so strong. I’d never seen you look so lost, so aimless.”
I rose and pushed the chair away. “Since when do you care? Since when do
any of the Scoobies give a fuck about me at all? You don’t need me around
to fight, now that you’ve got your Slayer back.” I couldn’t keep the
bitterness out of my voice.
“You didn’t come around any more either, Spike.” She just didn’t get it.
“Why? So you could ignore me or make fun of me?” I walked into the dining
room and paced. “I’m just a joke to all of you,” I said. “The vampire that
can’t feed, can’t fight humans, only gets the nutty, dizzy girls.”
She stood up and walked over to me. “I never thought you were a joke. I
always thought you were a good fighter, and a loyal friend. You took such
good care of Dawn.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “And you dated Buffy.
She was with you, as a couple. Sometimes love just isn’t enough.”
“She didn’t love me,” I said bitterly. “I never touched her heart. She let
me fuck her that was all. I was never more than a joke to her, either. I
was just convenient; she said so, after the first time we made love. I
should have believed her, instead of fooling myself.”
Tara’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Spike. I can’t believe she said that to
you.” She cupped my cheek in her hand.
I jerked my head away. “Don’t pity me!” I said vehemently. I turned to go
but she grabbed my hand.
“I don’t pity you,” she said. “I pity her. All that love wasted, when she
needs it so much.”
“I thought she was falling in love with me. I thought I could make her
happy.” My voice cracked. “She said that I was killing her. That being with
me was killing her.”
She wrapped her arms around me and held me tightly. I sank into her
embrace, her sweetness, and her comfort. It felt so good to be held. “I’m
so sorry,” she said. “I know how much you love her. That must have been so
awful for you.” She gently stroked my hair.
“It’s why I was leaving,” I said. “I’m afraid that if I stay in Sunnydale,
I’ll be following her around, and staring up at her window. I’ll be just as
pathetic as all of you think I am.”
“That’s not going to happen. You’ll get through this,” she said quietly.
“Maybe one day, you’ll look at her, and it won’t tear your heart out to do
it. If I can see Willow every day, and move on, then so can you.”
I pulled away and looked down at her. “I don’t know how. I don’t know what
do with myself.”
“You need to learn to live without her. She’s been the center of your life
for so long. You need to make a life for yourself.” She looked so sincere.
She stood on tiptoe and kissed me gently on the mouth. My body tingled with
it, and she tasted so sweet on my lips. She took my hand and led me back to
the table. I sipped my wine and watched her, her hair gleaming in the
I sank back into the tub, the water so hot the room was filled with steam.
The antique tub was immense; I could stretch out my legs all the way. I
lathered my hair with shampoo and plunged underneath the water. It was nice
and comfortable, the heat relaxing muscles I hadn’t realized were tense. I
closed my eyes and listened to the sound of the water, of the faint strains
of music coming from Tara’s room. I thought about what she’d said. About
moving on, getting a life. It cut like a knife to admit that I had come so
close with Buffy, had every chance to win her love, and failed. When it
came to the Slayer, I never could win. I’d forgotten that.
I got out of the tub and dried off, wrapping a towel around my waist. I
opened the door and walked across the hall to Tara’s room. She rested on
her stomach on her sleeping bag, looking through a pile of CD’s. Her boom
box played a bouncy track I vaguely remembered from the early 80’s. She
wore a tiny scrap of a nightgown, the plunging neckline barely covered her
nipples and the skirt was twisted high on her thighs. I admired the view
while she sang along, completely oblivious to my presence. She was achingly
beautiful, and the fact that she was so unconscious of it only made it that
much more appealing.
I knocked on the doorframe and she startled. “Hey there,” she greeted me.
“How was your bath?”
“Brilliant. I haven’t been so warm in years.” I could almost mistake myself
for a real boy.
“I’m trying to pick music for my audition,” she said. “You want to weigh
in?” She patted the sleeping bag next to her and I sat down.
“You should pick something you like, something you feel comfortable with,”
I said. “Something that feels good. A song that makes you want to move.”
She frowned and popped out the disk from the player. “Nothing seems right,”
she said with a sigh.
“You need to get in the right frame of mind,” I told her. “Wait right
here.” I went to the kitchen and grabbed the wine and the glasses. I went
back to Tara’s room and poured her a glass. “Have some of this, it will
help you relax.”
She rested back in the pillows and drank her wine as I looked through the
CD’s. I selected one and put it in. A slow, pulsating beat played from the
radio. She sat up and rubbed her foot, wincing as she rubbed the sole.
“Fancy a foot rub?” I asked her.
“Sure, that would be great,” she replied. “Walking around all day wore them
I settled myself at the end of her makeshift bed. I grabbed her ankle in
my hands and firmly massaged the arch of her foot with both my thumbs. She
took a large sip of wine as I kneaded her foot and watched her. “I love
these little nightgowns of yours,” I told her.
She opened her eyes and smiled at me. “I love lingerie,” she said. “It
makes me feel elegant and sexy.” She looked so beautiful, the midnight blue
of her gown making her eyes look deep and dark. She’d freed her hair from
its clip and it fell over her shoulders.
“I feel like one of those gents from a 1940’s movie,” I said to her. “He
spends the whole picture bantering with the mousy librarian, and then she
takes off her glasses and he realizes she’s a knockout.”
“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said with a grin. I dropped
her foot and picked up the other one, continuing the massage. She bit her
lip and put down her glass. “God, your hands are amazing,” she said.
“You’re so strong.”
“Superhuman,” I said. “Perfect for working out all those tight muscles you
weak little humans get.” I slid my hands up her ankle and rubbed her leg. I
was very conscious of her other foot resting in my lap, brushing against my
shaft and balls. She moaned slightly as I worked out a kink in her calf.
She closed her eyes and sank back in the pillows. “Oh, that’s so good,” she
said faintly. My blood heated as I looked at her, all stretched out on the
bed, pleasure washing over her face. I wanted her, badly. My hands slipped
up her legs and I caressed her thighs. She arched her back and moaned
again, her nipples hardening as I watched. I could hear her heart beat
faster as I worked the muscles in her thigh. Her eyes opened, and she
stared up at me, revealing her desire, her need.
I pulled away. “I should get dressed,” I said. I left her room and closed
the door behind me. In my room, I lay down in the dark on my sleeping bag.
My mind reeled. Tara wanted me. Shy, sweet, gentle, gay Tara wanted me. I
thought I’d sensed something earlier that day, when she held my hand, when
she kissed me in the kitchen. Now I knew, dead certain. I wondered why.
After all, we’d been around each other for months, and we’d never even
blinked an eye. But something had changed.
The radio next door blared louder. It was a sensual song with a heavy,
pounding beat. “You let me violate you,” rasped a low male voice. “You let
me desecrate you.” I heard a low moan under the noise of the song. “You
let me penetrate you,” the song continued, and I heard it again. Tara
moaning. Oh god. I pulled off the towel and stroked my cock, straining to
hear the noises that she made under the noise of the music. I could hear
her heavy breaths and pants. I closed my eyes and imagined her, her hair
spread over the pillows, eyes shut. Her fingers working under the blue
satin of her gown, her other hand clenched on her breast. I listened to her
gasp and whimper and felt my orgasm build. The noises that she made were in
conjunction with the beat of the music, and I imagined her fingers sliding
in and out of her depths as she worked toward her climax. I pumped harder,
nearing the edge. I heard her cry out loudly as she came, and it was all I
needed to bring me over. It felt good, so good, so strong and intense and
deep as I came. I lay on the bed, gasping.
She was right next door. She wanted me, quite obviously, and I sure as hell
wanted her. All I had to do was go next door, and… and what? “Sorry, I know
you’re a lesbian and all, but I heard you wank off and thought I’d offer
you a hand.”
She’d turn to me and smile. “Why, yes, climb in the bed and take me now,
you big strong man. The mere sight of your muscled chest has turned me
I was deluding myself, as usual. She was alone, had been for a while. It
wasn’t about me. It was about being lonely. And me, wanting her, was just a
rebound thing, because of Buffy. That’s all it was. I wiped myself off and
lit a cigarette. My telly was propped on cardboard box in the corner. I
flicked it on and stared at the screen. I smoked cigarette after cigarette,
and tried to get Tara out of my mind. The room next door was quiet, and I
figured she had fallen asleep. I had liked it last night, holding Tara
close, sleeping with her. I’d felt so needed, so wanted. A knock sounded at
my door. I threw my towel in a far corner and pulled on my jeans. “Come on
in,” I said.
Tara stepped in, draped in her afghan, pulling her sleeping bag and pillow
behind her. “I can’t sleep,” she said. “Can I watch TV with you?”
“Sure thing, sweetheart,” I said. I stood up and unzipped my bag and laid
it flat, placing hers on top of it. We lay down together and she threw the
afghan over both of us. We settled back on the pillows.
“Why are you watching a documentary on penguins?” she asked, as she looked
over at me.
I had no idea. All I’d been doing was lying here, thinking about her.
“Penguins are fascinating creatures,” I said. “Very large, and avian,” I
“What have you learned about them so far?” she asked curiously. I looked at
the TV. A herd of penguins waddled about, squawking.
“Well, they’re not very graceful,” I replied. “And they don’t fly.” She
laughed. I turned back to her and grinned. “Well, fuck, I don’t know. I
wasn’t paying attention. I was woolgathering.”
“What were you thinking about?” she asked, and there was a glint in her
eyes that told me that she knew.
I slid my hand up her thigh, over the silk of her nightgown, and she
gasped. “I think you know what I was thinking about,” I said in a low
She rolled away from me. “Earlier, in my room,” she spoke slowly, “you had
Kind of hard to deny that one. “Yes.”
“Because of me?’ she asked.
“From looking at you, smelling you, touching you.” I wanted to touch her
more. The strap of her nightgown was sliding down her shoulder, begging to
be pulled off.
“Does that happen to you all the time?” she asked curiously.
“When I’m with a woman that I’m attracted to, yeah. I’ve got a pretty high
libido. I love sex, I think about it a lot.” Sex, blood, fighting. That
summed up my thought process, most days.
She looked at me seriously. “I liked the way that you were touching me.”
She looked in my eyes. “I wanted more. I didn’t want you to stop.”
“Nothing wrong with that, love. Perfectly natural,” I reassured her.
She looked puzzled. “Not to me. I’ve never felt this way about a man, never
wanted to experiment.”
“You’ve never even kissed a man?” That was a little hard to believe.
She shook her head. “Not romantically. I never wanted to. I never liked any
of them that way.” She looked at me. “But I like you. I like the way you
smell, I like the way you feel, I like looking at you.” She seemed really
“It’s okay,” I said softly. “It’s just thoughts. You’re not hurting
anybody, not doing anything wrong.”
“As long as it is just thoughts,” she said. “As long as we don’t act on
them.” She looked at me hesitantly. I was very aware of her body, how good
she had felt underneath my hands, how sweet she had tasted when her lips
“Are you telling me that you want to act on them?” I asked her.
She blushed. “I don’t know what I want.”
“Love and lust aren’t the same thing, pet. You don’t have to feel guilty,
thinking about me when your heart’s with Willow. And the same goes for me.”
I wanted so much for her to understand. “It’s just a bit of sparking. You
like the way I look, I like the way you look.”
She wrinkled her brow. “Do you think that’s all it is? Just pheromones?
Just meaningless need?”
“It means whatever you want it to mean. I wouldn’t try to make anything of
it, if you wanted me," I said simply.
“Wouldn’t you want something more than that? Shouldn’t it be something more
than that?” she asked.
“Sometimes it is. And often it isn’t. Just do whatever feels right,” I
suggested. She put her head on my shoulder and I held her hand in mine. We
watched the documentary in silence, listening to the narrator drone on
about the penguins. It was better than a sleeping pill. Her body heat was
wonderful, and I cuddled in closer to her. She smelled so nice, fresh and
clean. She fell asleep, and I pulled the afghan up to her neck and turned
off the TV. I kissed her gently on the forehead and listened to the sound
of her heartbeat as I dozed off.
I woke up a few hours later. Tara was on top of me, her hair covering my
chest. Her nightgown had ridden up all around her waist, and I could see
all the way down. She was so gorgeous, her body so amazing. She stirred in
her sleep, and her mouth rose closer to mine. I wanted to ravage her mouth,
slip inside her and make love to her. My cock stirred, aroused by her
I quickly slid out of her embrace and dressed. I grabbed my duster from the
hook next to the front door and left the house, carefully closing the door
behind me. I lit a cigarette as I walked through the quiet cemetery. I
heard a noise behind me, and turned around. It was Buffy, stake in hand.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I live here,” I said.
“I saw that your stuff was gone from your crypt,” she said.
“Yeah, I took what was left of it.” The pathetic, charred bits of what
passed for my life.
“So do you have a new crypt here?” She looked around, like I’d have a
mailbox out front or a welcome mat out.
“No, I have a house.” I pointed. “Up over the hill.” She followed my
gesture. “Do you want to see it?”
“Sure.” We walked through the cemetery, not talking. We went up the path
and stood in front of my house. “This is really nice, Spike.”
“Thanks. It was a lot of work to find it.” I turned to her. “Would you like
to see inside?”
She looked at me searchingly. “Sure.”
We walked inside and I showed her the living room and the loft. I opened
the door that led to the bedrooms and kitchen. She followed behind me
noiselessly into the kitchen. “Want a drink, or some ice cream?”
“What kind of ice cream do you have?” she asked.
I opened up the freezer. “Chunky Monkey and Cherry Garcia,” I said as I
held out the pints.
She smiled. “We used to have those in the freezer all the time when Tara
lived with us. They’re her favorite flavors.”
“They’re hers,” I said. “She lives here.”
She looked at me oddly. “Tara lives here? With you?”
“She’s my new roommate.” Blank stare from the Slayer. “Do you want one of
“Chunky Monkey,” she said. I handed her the pint and a spoon. She took a
big bite and looked thoughtful. “Why would Tara want to live with you?” she
“She didn’t like her other place, and we get along well together.” A little
“I didn’t think that you knew each other that well,” she replied.
“We worked together on patrol every day you were gone,” I told her quietly.
“Giles, and she and I were a unit. I ate at her table every day. I slept on
the couch more times that I can remember.”
“I never knew that,” she said.
“You never asked.” I opened the other pint of ice cream and took a bite.
“You never asked about anything that happened when you were gone.”
“It was just too hard to think about.” I looked over at her, so somber and
serious. I remembered the girl she was when we met, all fire and zest and
bravado. That girl was gone, and I didn’t think she was ever coming back.
“I’m sorry if I made things worse for you, Slayer.” She looked at me. “I
never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted to love you, to make you happy.”
“I know,” she said softly. “I knew how you felt. I never should have let
things go so far.”
We sat for a moment in silence. “Why did you make love to me?” I asked her.
“Did you ever mean for it to be anything more?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “After the first time, I wished things were
different, that I felt more than I did.” She frowned. “I just didn’t have
anything to give you.”
“Do you wish that we’d never been together, that you’d never kissed me that
first night?” I asked. I was afraid to hear the answer, but I needed to
“Yes.” She looked me straight in the eyes, and I knew it was true. It hurt
as much as when she punched me. She got up and handed me the carton of ice
cream. “I should go.” I walked her out and stood in the doorway as she
walked away. Her head was bowed, her shoulders hunched, as if she walked
against a strong wind. I shut the door and headed back to my room.
I opened the door and leaned against the frame. Tara slept; her body
sprawled across the afghan. I knew her, better than I had thought I did.
I’d seen her in love, seen how devoted she was to Red. I’d seen her fight,
seen her use magic. She was a strong woman, and she gave everything she had
when she believed in what she was doing. She never did anything casually,
was never halfhearted.
If I touched her, she would be mine unconditionally. That was the way she
loved, without limits or boundaries. She wasn’t the kind of woman who would
give her body, and not her heart. She’d love me with all she had to give,
holding back nothing. My heart was broken, my body dead, my soul long lost.
I shut the door and walked away.
Continued in Chapter 4
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