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Chapter 37: Liar
Author’s Note: This chapter covers the same time period as Chapter 5.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all recognizable characters, locations, and dialogue belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the various writers. Show writers and any other quoted authors have been credited in individual chapters. I'm making no money from this—it is purely in the name of fun.
Betaed by Phuriedae*
*because Spike is English, I’ve made a rather anal retentive attempt to spell things “properly.” My beta (who IS British), has asked that I include the following disclaimer: “Any Britpicking mistakes are my beta's, because she reads too much fic written by you bloody Americans and is used to your bizarre ways by now."
Chapter 37
Liar
26 October 2000
I swear, I'm gonna rip all that blonde hair right out of her skull. Then I'm going to stuff it in her soddin' mouth till it's coming out of her arse.
She calls me …that name…One. More. Time. and I swear I'll do it.
Should get a medal for this. For being so bloody damned noble, taking in worthless fucking bimbos and then letting them stay on even when it's obvious they're a waste of immortality.
Wait.
Sod the medal.
Case of Jack or three would be reward enough. Throw in a few bottles of tequila and we'll call it square.
Harmony's incessant prattling is enough to make me want to ram a railroad spike through my own bloody head. Pity I can't travel back in time. I'd dump her in the middle of one of Lady Hurst's tedious little parties, let her talk till their brains ran out their ears.
Better yet, maybe I'll ship her off to Peaches with a little bow on her head. Stick a card in her knickers saying "Know how you love blondes. Enjoy. Merry Xmas, Spike."
She starts talking the minute she wakes up. She talks when she's showering, bitching and moaning because I don't have hot water. What the hell do I need hot water for? Vampire, remember? Not like it matters. But no, she's got to have her hot water, and her expensive shampoo that makes the entire crypt reek like roses. Reminds me of old women's drawing rooms and their nasty rose water. Big Bads do not smell like old grannies.
She talks through breakfast, complaining because all I've got is pig's blood. Even though I've explained to her half a million times already that I can't hunt, can't feed off humans, and the bloody Slayer doesn't respect my personal space; which means that Harmony can't bring home her leftovers. Daft bint bitches every single evening till I'm daydreaming about taking her out to watch the sunset—a few hours early.
She talks through my programmes. She talks while shagging. She talks in her goddamn sleep.
Least when Dru talked she was interesting. Didn't make sense most of the time, of course, but it was interesting.
Only time I get a bloody break is when I'm out patrolling, or watching the Slayer's house. Or off in the dream dimension.
Who'd have thought I'd find a measure of peace by hanging round the Slayer?
***
27 October 2000
Boy Toy's scent is better, when he leaves it imprinted in her skin. Not sick anymore, I suppose. But it's weaker, too. Not shagging as often, or as hard.
Now that I know, it's difficult to tamp down the urge to growl whenever she comes to bed reeking of him. I'm jealous, yeah, so what?
Vampire, right? Not really known for our altruism and self-sacrificing ways. We want something, usually we just take it.
I want her.
Gods, I want her.
Never have her, of course. Not so long as Lieutenant Limp Dick is in the picture, at any rate, and even then.
Been enemies for too long, and demons generally don't get happy endings, do we?
I keep thinking about Willow's spell from last year. Remembering having a lap full of warm, willing, wriggly Slayer. It's like a brand new form of torture. Can almost feel her up against me, tight little Slayer with her perky tits perched just at mouth level and that luscious little throat just inches away. Having a nightly reminder of how she smells when she's hot and wet and ready…fuck. All I can do some nights to reign in the demon and keep from pouncing on her and shagging her into the ground. She's so little. Know she'd be tight as hell. And those leg muscles, fuck…she probably snap my back again if I let her wrap them around my waist. Be worth it. God, what a way to go. Can tell from the way she sleeps that she'd be cuddly as a kitten after. Could wrap her around me like a warm little Slayer blanket…
Fuck.
This is wrong. Shouldn't be thinking like this about her. Not about HER.
Killer of my kind, yeah? How masochistic can you get?
But…
Maybe if I could shag her, just for one night, I could get this out of my head. Humans are usually such a disappointment in bed, so breakable.
But she's not exactly human, is she?
***
30 October 2000
Been following her on patrol for a while now. Watching from a distance. Trying to figure out what it is about her that's got me so bloody twisted. Hasn't helped.
It's all muddled up in my head. I watch her fighting and I can't help but love the way she moves, even as she's killing my kind. I like that she makes those stupid little quips as she slays, like she's trying to find the fun in it. She's fucking ridiculous, too, the clothes she wears to fight in—like she's going to a party or to hang out with her chums, not like the warrior she is. And that hair. That fucking hair, bouncing around, begging for a vamp to wrap a hand in it and yank her head back…
Bet it's warm, too. Probably feel like fire wrapping around my fingers.
God. I want to hate her. I want to punch in that perky little nose and then maul that luscious little lip. Want to listen to her gasp and moan and then scream…
She's been spending more time at her mum's the last few days, her and the overgrown Boy Scout. If I stand under the tree outside her window I can hear everything. Hear her telling her mum she's worried about Dudley Do-Right patrolling with her, now that he's not all super-powered anymore. Hear her telling the boy he needs to take it easy, rest.
Hard not to hear, when they're shagging. Little moans she makes get me so fucking hard…Luckily, it's usually quick.
When she drops off to sleep I go home, shag Harmony or toss off until I’ve got some control over the demon, then go to bed.
Join her where he can't reach us.
For the first time I'm glad of this bargain. Can't touch her. But I can be with her there, in the dark, where she thinks its a dream and can't see my face. Can pretend, for a little while, when she's curled up in my bed, that she's mine.
At least until the bloody sun comes up again.
I'm thoroughly buggered.
***
5 November 2000
She caught me tonight, hanging round her house.
I'd been working up to something. Had a speech all memorised. Something…seductive, full of swagger and confidence. Something to make her see me as something other than an enemy.
Then she yanked me out from behind the tree and all the words just flew right out of my head. All I could manage was to stare like a complete git and say "Hi, Buffy."
Guess calling her by name was the wrong tactic since it got me a fist to the face for my efforts. She just doesn't know when to stop being bitchy and pay attention. Is it any wonder I lost my temper?
Not entirely certain what I ended up saying. Words just kept falling out of my mouth. Only thing I clearly remember is telling her she had stupid hair. Contrary to what some might think, I don't lie often. Truth's always more painful than fiction. That bit about her hair might have been the worst lie I've ever spouted in her direction.
Ego crushing, that is. What kind of self-respecting vampire can claim that his biggest lie was telling his mortal enemy that her hair was stupid?
By the time I'd calmed down enough to think straight I was halfway across town and staring at the sign over Willy's Place.
Took that as doctor's orders and proceeded to try to get drunk.
It's amazing how much better I feel after a couple of pints of O-neg, a few bottles of JD, and a fistfight or three.
***
6 November 2000
Trouble is, drunk doesn't seem to follow me into the other dimension. Sober as a bloody stone by the time I opened my eyes and found her standing on my side of the bed.
I frowned. Thought our boundary lines there were pretty firmly drawn, so what in the bleedin' hell was she doing on my side of the bed? The demon had a few choice suggestions but I shut it up right quick. She knew I was there. Her head came up and swivelled to face me unerringly. If it weren't for the slightly unfocused gaze I'd have thought someone had turned the lights on for her.
"Sorry," she said. "Not very sleepy at the moment. Decided to go for a walk, but…" she waved a hand vaguely. "I can't see if I'm going to bump into anything."
Oh. Right.
Not sure what to do with a frustrated Slayer, but unwilling to stand like a statue across the room, I approached the bed. I stopped a few feet from her and leaned against the post at the foot, waiting for her to say something.
When she did, I about fell over again.
"Are you going to try to kill me?" she said suddenly, as if she'd been holding it back.
Now there's a loaded question.
I sucked at my teeth for a moment, trying to decide how to answer. Since I'm pretty much limited to yes or no it didn't take too long. No, I finally tapped on the bedpost.
In the past, yeah, I'd have tried to kill her. A few weeks ago, yeah, was trying to kill her. Not now, though. Maybe not ever again, but I can't promise that. Just because I'm in love with her doesn't mean that she loves me back. Still enemies, right? Still a vampire. She's still the Slayer. Destined to dance ‘til death or dust do we part.
There's just the tiny little problem of me being utterly barking mad for falling in love with her.
But right at that moment, no, I wasn't going to try to kill her. Was as honest an answer as I could give.
She seemed confused. "Why not?" As if I had any way of answering that.
"Right. You're not the talkative type. Pity more vampires aren't that way. I mean, some of them even lurk loudly. And then when they open their mouths they don't know how to shut up. Parts and other parts…yeah right. And…and…do I have stupid hair?"
I tried to suppress a chuckle. Well, well. Guess I managed to score one off the Slayer after all. I was so pleased I forgot to lie.
No, I tapped. Her hair…God, I have got to stop obsessing about her hair. Love how it bounces around her when she's fighting, all golden and glorious and gleaming. It's like sunshine to these old eyes, and I've got to ball my hands into fists around her just to keep from running my fingers through it. Always liked her hair, even back when I wanted to suck her dry.
Which was only a couple of weeks ago, but that’s hardly the fucking point.
Suddenly she got suspicious. "Can you see me?" Her eyes got all squinty like they do just before she's going to punch me. I silently shifted backwards, out of her reach. No point in lying, though. She'd figured it out already.
Yes.
"That's so unfair. Who made that stupid rule?" She pouted. I blinked.
That's it? She finds out she's stuck in a room with a vampire who has a physical advantage over her and the most I get is a pout? Fuck stakes. Chit knows how to slay a vamp's ego with nothing more than her lower lip. She ought to be terrified. Still the Big Bad here. Especially here.
Could snap her twiggy little neck…if I wanted.
She sighed and shifted restlessly.
"I need to move. Would you…uh…walk beside me, I guess? And maybe stop me if I'm going to run into something?"
Bloody hell.
Slayer was asking me for a favour.
Putting her vulnerable little arse right in my hands. Could do anything. Could lead her off into the darkness and pounce. Walk her into a wall. Trip her. Attack.
Not that I'd do any of those things.
Anymore.
Unless she brassed me off.
She was asking me for a favour. Course, she didn't know it was me, but still…I straightened my shoulders. Right. I could do this.
Yes, I tapped, falling in beside her when she started to walk away from the bed. Suddenly old William was there, rising up in me; that polite Victorian git, ready to escort his lady for a turn about the parlour. I let him. Not like he'd had many opportunities for this sort of thing in life.
"My boyfriend is an idiot," she said abruptly, and I was glad I'd let William lead because I managed not to stumble in surprise. Guess it's true when they say manners are ingrained. Would take steel wool and holy water to purge those out of me. Course, just because I remember them doesn't mean I use them. Spent nearly a hundred years repressing them, unless Dru fancied having a tea party. But they're still there, just a bit dusty, is all.
She went on, "He…it's really complicated, but let's just say that for awhile he had super strength and was helping me fight vampires and demons. And now he doesn't, but he's still trying to fight. Whenever I'm patrolling I have to constantly be watching out for him, and it's…not fair. To either of us. I know I don't need to protect him, but I can't help it. I'm the Slayer. It's in my job description: protect the world from the demons and the vampires. He's part of the world that needs protecting."
I didn't snort. Didn't dare make any sort of noise. Slayer was finally getting it. A mere human for her is a weak spot in the armour, ready to be exploited by an enemy. Angelus would have had a field day with Finn. Would have worked on him for a long time to see how long it took before she sacrificed her relationship with him for his own good, then crucified the big lout on her front lawn. Or turned him and waited to see how long it would take her to stake him. Boy's a liability, and she's right to worry about him.
Don't even get me started on Harris.
"But I don't want to have to protect him. I liked it before when we could fight side by side, even if we didn't always agree on everything. I want him to feel useful, like he's part of the team. I…just want. Is that stupid?"
It's not. Girl fights with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Fighting those other Slayers, it was always just about the challenge, about the battle. For me. For them I was just another vamp in a long series of battles that never seemed to end. I offered a way out. A better one than they might have hoped for, really. Going out on top, instead of being turned, being tortured by a brute like Angelus, or eaten alive by some nasty demon.
This girl, though, she's got friends. Family. Scoobies. Watcher. She's not just a warrior, she's a girl and it's a miracle that the PTB have let her keep all that for so long. It's kept her alive, though. Having a partner, someone who could fight alongside her, would keep her alive even longer. Lift some of the weight. It's no wonder she clings to the bastard so hard.
No. Not stupid.
She gave me an odd look. "I wish I could see you," she said, frowning. "Do you have any idea how creepy it is to be in the dark with a vampire you can't see but who can see you?"
I chuckled, feeling a bit better. That's right. Still the Big Bad, here.
"Okay, so I guess vampires don't rate high on the list of things you find creepy."
No. I laughed again.
When you're a vampire, there's not much that scares you anymore.
Except the thought of falling in love with your mortal enemy, that is.
She yawned hugely. "Which way is the bed?"
Fuck.
I hesitated a moment, not entirely sure what to do. Could carry her back, I supposed, but I doubted the Slayer would take too kindly to a vamp sweeping her off her feet—especially considering her question had given me a bloody cockstand. Finally let my inner William dig up some old fashioned poncy solution and guided her back by the elbow, then showed her where the bed was. Her skin was incredibly warm, tempting, fragile.
"Thanks," she said, startling me out of a dangerous line of thought involving the veins in her wrists.
Once she'd snuggled down I went around to my side and slid under the duvet. She yawned again.
"Goodnight, Mr. Gordo," she said, sleepily.
I growled.
Bugger. There went my Big Bad again.
Maybe I will kill her after all.
***
To One Hated
Had it been when I came to the valley where the paths parted asunder,
Chance had led my feet to the way of love, not hate,
I might have cherished you well, have been to you fond and faithful,
Great as my hatred is, so might my love have been great.
Each cold word of mine might have been a kiss impassioned,
Warm with the throb of my heart, thrilled with my pulse's leap,
And every glance of scorn, lashing, pursuing, and stinging,
As a look of tenderness would have been wondrous and deep.
Bitter our hatred is, old and strong and unchanging,
Twined with the fibres of life, blent with body and soul,
But as its bitterness, so might have been our love's sweetness
Had it not missed the way strange missing and sad!to its goal.
-L. M. Montgomery
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all recognizable characters, locations, and dialogue belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the various writers. Show writers and any other quoted authors have been credited in individual chapters. I'm making no money from this—it is purely in the name of fun.
Betaed by Phuriedae*
*because Spike is English, I’ve made a rather anal retentive attempt to spell things “properly.” My beta (who IS British), has asked that I include the following disclaimer: “Any Britpicking mistakes are my beta's, because she reads too much fic written by you bloody Americans and is used to your bizarre ways by now."
Liar
26 October 2000
I swear, I'm gonna rip all that blonde hair right out of her skull. Then I'm going to stuff it in her soddin' mouth till it's coming out of her arse.
She calls me …that name…One. More. Time. and I swear I'll do it.
Should get a medal for this. For being so bloody damned noble, taking in worthless fucking bimbos and then letting them stay on even when it's obvious they're a waste of immortality.
Wait.
Sod the medal.
Case of Jack or three would be reward enough. Throw in a few bottles of tequila and we'll call it square.
Harmony's incessant prattling is enough to make me want to ram a railroad spike through my own bloody head. Pity I can't travel back in time. I'd dump her in the middle of one of Lady Hurst's tedious little parties, let her talk till their brains ran out their ears.
Better yet, maybe I'll ship her off to Peaches with a little bow on her head. Stick a card in her knickers saying "Know how you love blondes. Enjoy. Merry Xmas, Spike."
She starts talking the minute she wakes up. She talks when she's showering, bitching and moaning because I don't have hot water. What the hell do I need hot water for? Vampire, remember? Not like it matters. But no, she's got to have her hot water, and her expensive shampoo that makes the entire crypt reek like roses. Reminds me of old women's drawing rooms and their nasty rose water. Big Bads do not smell like old grannies.
She talks through breakfast, complaining because all I've got is pig's blood. Even though I've explained to her half a million times already that I can't hunt, can't feed off humans, and the bloody Slayer doesn't respect my personal space; which means that Harmony can't bring home her leftovers. Daft bint bitches every single evening till I'm daydreaming about taking her out to watch the sunset—a few hours early.
She talks through my programmes. She talks while shagging. She talks in her goddamn sleep.
Least when Dru talked she was interesting. Didn't make sense most of the time, of course, but it was interesting.
Only time I get a bloody break is when I'm out patrolling, or watching the Slayer's house. Or off in the dream dimension.
Who'd have thought I'd find a measure of peace by hanging round the Slayer?
27 October 2000
Boy Toy's scent is better, when he leaves it imprinted in her skin. Not sick anymore, I suppose. But it's weaker, too. Not shagging as often, or as hard.
Now that I know, it's difficult to tamp down the urge to growl whenever she comes to bed reeking of him. I'm jealous, yeah, so what?
Vampire, right? Not really known for our altruism and self-sacrificing ways. We want something, usually we just take it.
I want her.
Gods, I want her.
Never have her, of course. Not so long as Lieutenant Limp Dick is in the picture, at any rate, and even then.
Been enemies for too long, and demons generally don't get happy endings, do we?
I keep thinking about Willow's spell from last year. Remembering having a lap full of warm, willing, wriggly Slayer. It's like a brand new form of torture. Can almost feel her up against me, tight little Slayer with her perky tits perched just at mouth level and that luscious little throat just inches away. Having a nightly reminder of how she smells when she's hot and wet and ready…fuck. All I can do some nights to reign in the demon and keep from pouncing on her and shagging her into the ground. She's so little. Know she'd be tight as hell. And those leg muscles, fuck…she probably snap my back again if I let her wrap them around my waist. Be worth it. God, what a way to go. Can tell from the way she sleeps that she'd be cuddly as a kitten after. Could wrap her around me like a warm little Slayer blanket…
Fuck.
This is wrong. Shouldn't be thinking like this about her. Not about HER.
Killer of my kind, yeah? How masochistic can you get?
But…
Maybe if I could shag her, just for one night, I could get this out of my head. Humans are usually such a disappointment in bed, so breakable.
But she's not exactly human, is she?
30 October 2000
Been following her on patrol for a while now. Watching from a distance. Trying to figure out what it is about her that's got me so bloody twisted. Hasn't helped.
It's all muddled up in my head. I watch her fighting and I can't help but love the way she moves, even as she's killing my kind. I like that she makes those stupid little quips as she slays, like she's trying to find the fun in it. She's fucking ridiculous, too, the clothes she wears to fight in—like she's going to a party or to hang out with her chums, not like the warrior she is. And that hair. That fucking hair, bouncing around, begging for a vamp to wrap a hand in it and yank her head back…
Bet it's warm, too. Probably feel like fire wrapping around my fingers.
God. I want to hate her. I want to punch in that perky little nose and then maul that luscious little lip. Want to listen to her gasp and moan and then scream…
She's been spending more time at her mum's the last few days, her and the overgrown Boy Scout. If I stand under the tree outside her window I can hear everything. Hear her telling her mum she's worried about Dudley Do-Right patrolling with her, now that he's not all super-powered anymore. Hear her telling the boy he needs to take it easy, rest.
Hard not to hear, when they're shagging. Little moans she makes get me so fucking hard…Luckily, it's usually quick.
When she drops off to sleep I go home, shag Harmony or toss off until I’ve got some control over the demon, then go to bed.
Join her where he can't reach us.
For the first time I'm glad of this bargain. Can't touch her. But I can be with her there, in the dark, where she thinks its a dream and can't see my face. Can pretend, for a little while, when she's curled up in my bed, that she's mine.
At least until the bloody sun comes up again.
I'm thoroughly buggered.
5 November 2000
She caught me tonight, hanging round her house.
I'd been working up to something. Had a speech all memorised. Something…seductive, full of swagger and confidence. Something to make her see me as something other than an enemy.
Then she yanked me out from behind the tree and all the words just flew right out of my head. All I could manage was to stare like a complete git and say "Hi, Buffy."
Guess calling her by name was the wrong tactic since it got me a fist to the face for my efforts. She just doesn't know when to stop being bitchy and pay attention. Is it any wonder I lost my temper?
Not entirely certain what I ended up saying. Words just kept falling out of my mouth. Only thing I clearly remember is telling her she had stupid hair. Contrary to what some might think, I don't lie often. Truth's always more painful than fiction. That bit about her hair might have been the worst lie I've ever spouted in her direction.
Ego crushing, that is. What kind of self-respecting vampire can claim that his biggest lie was telling his mortal enemy that her hair was stupid?
By the time I'd calmed down enough to think straight I was halfway across town and staring at the sign over Willy's Place.
Took that as doctor's orders and proceeded to try to get drunk.
It's amazing how much better I feel after a couple of pints of O-neg, a few bottles of JD, and a fistfight or three.
6 November 2000
Trouble is, drunk doesn't seem to follow me into the other dimension. Sober as a bloody stone by the time I opened my eyes and found her standing on my side of the bed.
I frowned. Thought our boundary lines there were pretty firmly drawn, so what in the bleedin' hell was she doing on my side of the bed? The demon had a few choice suggestions but I shut it up right quick. She knew I was there. Her head came up and swivelled to face me unerringly. If it weren't for the slightly unfocused gaze I'd have thought someone had turned the lights on for her.
"Sorry," she said. "Not very sleepy at the moment. Decided to go for a walk, but…" she waved a hand vaguely. "I can't see if I'm going to bump into anything."
Oh. Right.
Not sure what to do with a frustrated Slayer, but unwilling to stand like a statue across the room, I approached the bed. I stopped a few feet from her and leaned against the post at the foot, waiting for her to say something.
When she did, I about fell over again.
"Are you going to try to kill me?" she said suddenly, as if she'd been holding it back.
Now there's a loaded question.
I sucked at my teeth for a moment, trying to decide how to answer. Since I'm pretty much limited to yes or no it didn't take too long. No, I finally tapped on the bedpost.
In the past, yeah, I'd have tried to kill her. A few weeks ago, yeah, was trying to kill her. Not now, though. Maybe not ever again, but I can't promise that. Just because I'm in love with her doesn't mean that she loves me back. Still enemies, right? Still a vampire. She's still the Slayer. Destined to dance ‘til death or dust do we part.
There's just the tiny little problem of me being utterly barking mad for falling in love with her.
But right at that moment, no, I wasn't going to try to kill her. Was as honest an answer as I could give.
She seemed confused. "Why not?" As if I had any way of answering that.
"Right. You're not the talkative type. Pity more vampires aren't that way. I mean, some of them even lurk loudly. And then when they open their mouths they don't know how to shut up. Parts and other parts…yeah right. And…and…do I have stupid hair?"
I tried to suppress a chuckle. Well, well. Guess I managed to score one off the Slayer after all. I was so pleased I forgot to lie.
No, I tapped. Her hair…God, I have got to stop obsessing about her hair. Love how it bounces around her when she's fighting, all golden and glorious and gleaming. It's like sunshine to these old eyes, and I've got to ball my hands into fists around her just to keep from running my fingers through it. Always liked her hair, even back when I wanted to suck her dry.
Which was only a couple of weeks ago, but that’s hardly the fucking point.
Suddenly she got suspicious. "Can you see me?" Her eyes got all squinty like they do just before she's going to punch me. I silently shifted backwards, out of her reach. No point in lying, though. She'd figured it out already.
Yes.
"That's so unfair. Who made that stupid rule?" She pouted. I blinked.
That's it? She finds out she's stuck in a room with a vampire who has a physical advantage over her and the most I get is a pout? Fuck stakes. Chit knows how to slay a vamp's ego with nothing more than her lower lip. She ought to be terrified. Still the Big Bad here. Especially here.
Could snap her twiggy little neck…if I wanted.
She sighed and shifted restlessly.
"I need to move. Would you…uh…walk beside me, I guess? And maybe stop me if I'm going to run into something?"
Bloody hell.
Slayer was asking me for a favour.
Putting her vulnerable little arse right in my hands. Could do anything. Could lead her off into the darkness and pounce. Walk her into a wall. Trip her. Attack.
Not that I'd do any of those things.
Anymore.
Unless she brassed me off.
She was asking me for a favour. Course, she didn't know it was me, but still…I straightened my shoulders. Right. I could do this.
Yes, I tapped, falling in beside her when she started to walk away from the bed. Suddenly old William was there, rising up in me; that polite Victorian git, ready to escort his lady for a turn about the parlour. I let him. Not like he'd had many opportunities for this sort of thing in life.
"My boyfriend is an idiot," she said abruptly, and I was glad I'd let William lead because I managed not to stumble in surprise. Guess it's true when they say manners are ingrained. Would take steel wool and holy water to purge those out of me. Course, just because I remember them doesn't mean I use them. Spent nearly a hundred years repressing them, unless Dru fancied having a tea party. But they're still there, just a bit dusty, is all.
She went on, "He…it's really complicated, but let's just say that for awhile he had super strength and was helping me fight vampires and demons. And now he doesn't, but he's still trying to fight. Whenever I'm patrolling I have to constantly be watching out for him, and it's…not fair. To either of us. I know I don't need to protect him, but I can't help it. I'm the Slayer. It's in my job description: protect the world from the demons and the vampires. He's part of the world that needs protecting."
I didn't snort. Didn't dare make any sort of noise. Slayer was finally getting it. A mere human for her is a weak spot in the armour, ready to be exploited by an enemy. Angelus would have had a field day with Finn. Would have worked on him for a long time to see how long it took before she sacrificed her relationship with him for his own good, then crucified the big lout on her front lawn. Or turned him and waited to see how long it would take her to stake him. Boy's a liability, and she's right to worry about him.
Don't even get me started on Harris.
"But I don't want to have to protect him. I liked it before when we could fight side by side, even if we didn't always agree on everything. I want him to feel useful, like he's part of the team. I…just want. Is that stupid?"
It's not. Girl fights with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Fighting those other Slayers, it was always just about the challenge, about the battle. For me. For them I was just another vamp in a long series of battles that never seemed to end. I offered a way out. A better one than they might have hoped for, really. Going out on top, instead of being turned, being tortured by a brute like Angelus, or eaten alive by some nasty demon.
This girl, though, she's got friends. Family. Scoobies. Watcher. She's not just a warrior, she's a girl and it's a miracle that the PTB have let her keep all that for so long. It's kept her alive, though. Having a partner, someone who could fight alongside her, would keep her alive even longer. Lift some of the weight. It's no wonder she clings to the bastard so hard.
No. Not stupid.
She gave me an odd look. "I wish I could see you," she said, frowning. "Do you have any idea how creepy it is to be in the dark with a vampire you can't see but who can see you?"
I chuckled, feeling a bit better. That's right. Still the Big Bad, here.
"Okay, so I guess vampires don't rate high on the list of things you find creepy."
No. I laughed again.
When you're a vampire, there's not much that scares you anymore.
Except the thought of falling in love with your mortal enemy, that is.
She yawned hugely. "Which way is the bed?"
Fuck.
I hesitated a moment, not entirely sure what to do. Could carry her back, I supposed, but I doubted the Slayer would take too kindly to a vamp sweeping her off her feet—especially considering her question had given me a bloody cockstand. Finally let my inner William dig up some old fashioned poncy solution and guided her back by the elbow, then showed her where the bed was. Her skin was incredibly warm, tempting, fragile.
"Thanks," she said, startling me out of a dangerous line of thought involving the veins in her wrists.
Once she'd snuggled down I went around to my side and slid under the duvet. She yawned again.
"Goodnight, Mr. Gordo," she said, sleepily.
I growled.
Bugger. There went my Big Bad again.
Maybe I will kill her after all.
To One Hated
Had it been when I came to the valley where the paths parted asunder,
Chance had led my feet to the way of love, not hate,
I might have cherished you well, have been to you fond and faithful,
Great as my hatred is, so might my love have been great.
Each cold word of mine might have been a kiss impassioned,
Warm with the throb of my heart, thrilled with my pulse's leap,
And every glance of scorn, lashing, pursuing, and stinging,
As a look of tenderness would have been wondrous and deep.
Bitter our hatred is, old and strong and unchanging,
Twined with the fibres of life, blent with body and soul,
But as its bitterness, so might have been our love's sweetness
Had it not missed the way strange missing and sad!to its goal.
-L. M. Montgomery
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