Prey for you

I was kind enough to love you
You were cruel enough to leave
At the time I needed you most
You brought me to my knees
If I would have seen it coming
If I could have had a clue
I might never have fallen prey to you.

Spike drove his DeSoto like a maniac, just trying to get away from the pain.

Drusilla. Deceitful bitch. Hate-filled cunt. He knew from the beginning, the very first time he saw her in the alley, that she was not one to be trusted. She had proved that to him over and over, first with Angelus, then with the little affairs. Still, he yearned for her, ached for her, even as she stomped on his long-dead heart and twisted his balls in her hands. No matter what torture she had ever visited upon his flesh, he was true to her. Loved only her. Needed only her. She could not give him even the crumbs of her affection. He wasn’t her mate, only her Childe, and that broke his heart as well. Separated from Sire and family, he was alone. That burned—loneliness like a mini-sun, deep inside him, turning him to ash from the inside out.

He would show her. He would just have to move on.

I remember very clearly
When you said in Piedmont Park
That you’d be there right beside me
Now I’m lonely in the dark
Oh I wished upon a kiss I’d…
Everything you said was true
Now I wish I’d never fallen prey to you.

Buffy patrolled listlessly, her mind on other things.

Angel, to be precise.

He left. Without a word, without a kiss, he had broken his promise to stay with her and left, right after graduation. Her life stretched before her, empty and without hope, without promise. However much time she had left.

There were times that she hated being the Slayer. Hated being Chosen. She didn’t want to be alone, fight alone, die alone. It wasn’t fair. She was only a girl.

She imagined finding a partner that she wouldn’t have to protect. One who could fight by her side, kicking ass and protecting her, for once. She rolled her eyes, and cursed her romantic nature. She would never find anyone like that.

Look at me now, don’t I seem fine?
Drove me to tears for such a long time.
What will I do, oh, when I see you?
Just let my eyes burn right through.

Spike looked at Dru, slithering out of the shadows in the crypt.

He wondered what brought her here, now. He was finally over her, after a hundred years of waiting for her. He wondered if she could feel his ambivalence through their bond as Sire and Childe.

He listened to her, but didn’t really hear the words. There was longing in her voice, for what he didn’t know. Family? Belonging? Sod the bloody bitch. She should have thought of that, and him, a long time ago.

Still, he went with her to the Bronze, and drank from the dead girl she offered him. He tried to enjoy the blood and mayhem, but it left him hollow inside. The only thought that seemed to fill him was Buffy.

~*~

Later, watching Dru slink back into the shadows of the tunnels, he searched for pain, sorrow, anguish inside him. All he could find was her. The Slayer. He turned to look at her, hope in his eyes. She gave him the only thing that she could. She punched him between his eyes.

Now I’m picking up the pieces,
I’ve camouflaged my scars
But I can’t erase the memories
I’m trying very hard
There are still things that remind me
Part of everything I do
Screams I should have never fallen prey to you.

She clutched the robe around her. The tile floor of the bathroom felt cold against her bare legs, but she didn’t think about it. Couldn’t think about anything, feel anything, but his hands on her body, his mouth on hers, the pain, the need….

She thought about their relationship, ex-relationship. It had always been violent, always been about control. Her control over him. His control over her. Their fight for dominance. Passion, need, lust…they had consumed them both, blinding them to the destructive power that they controlled together. She wondered for a moment if things could have been different, if they could have harnessed that passion and need for constructive purposes. She wondered if there was some way they could have overlooked the others’ shortcomings and flaws, and made the best of it. She loved him. She couldn’t deny that, not now. But there was too much history and too much baggage on the Buffy train, and she didn’t think that she could ever let it go.

Still, he tried…no, she couldn’t let herself think of that. He hurt her. He didn’t listen to her. He wouldn’t stop. But, she thought, how many times had she told him no before, not meaning it, not believing it. How many times had she denied him the entrance to her heart? She couldn’t count them. She had always denied him, never letting herself go, even when they were making love. And it was making love, not just sex anymore. There was tenderness, there were feelings, there was desire. He had said something about love being fire, once. The fire had burned her, scorched her, and now…now, she was alone in herself again. Heart of ashes.

Tears rolled down her face. God, she missed him.

Look at me now, don’t I seem fine?
Drove me to tears for such a long time.
What will I do, oh, when I see you?
Just let my eyes burn right through.

She looked at him, standing right in front of her, a figment of her imagination. He was disheveled, unkempt—in all their times together, she had never seen him looking like this.

Her heart twisted in her chest, pain shooting to her soul. Stunned, she looked into empty eyes, willing him to see her. He looked past her, through her. She realized she was as much a figment to him as he was to her. He probably didn’t think that she was real.

She closed them behind the door, jamming it shut, and turned to look at him. Lacerations covered his chest, scratches on his arms, a haunted look in his eye. She felt tears burning in her chest, threatening to come pouring out of her, and stifled the impulse.

She reached for him, and he slapped her hand away, unwilling to allow her to touch him, hurt him again. The rejection stung, and she let it show. She wanted to hold him, but other things, other people, intruded like they always did.

She told him she would be back.

He didn’t believe her.

I was kind enough to love you
You were cruel enough to leave
At the time I needed you most
You brought me to my knees
If I would have seen it coming
If I could have had a clue
I might never have fallen prey to you.

The bus drove away from the Hellmouth.

Buffy sat in the back seat, looking back. So much of her life had gone into protecting the people she loved in a town that needed her. Now, it was all gone.

Now Spike was gone.

Tears streamed down her face, and she ignored them, finally able to think and feel what she wanted. Finally able to ignore the pointed stares of her friends and her Watcher. Finally able to acknowledge the feelings that had been inside her all along, too late. She burned. She ached. She wanted to hold him like he held her last night, and never would again.

She missed him. Again. She always would.

Prey for You—by Kristen Hall