There was this progression his dreams took that went from simply fulfilling, to mindblowingly brilliant. Give or take your point or view.
They began pretty simple: Vampire meets Slayer. Vampire kills Slayer. Little bit of filler in between, most of it based on his past experiences in that same department, before the ultimate violent and gruesome ending.
Then he actually met the blonde firecracker, and his dreams got a little more involved. Vampire and Slayer arrange a tête-à-tête, play out one of their more glorious of battles. Vampire eventually bests Slayer, but not without having his wicked way with her beforehand.
That was years ago, and while Spike still had those same dreams from time to time, these new ones were causing a little more disturbance in the force. So to speak.
They started out normal enough. Slayer bursting into his crypt, looking like the stuck-up bitch that she was. Usually she was there for no purpose at all. Just wanted to hear herself talk. That, and throw a punch or three at him knowing damn well that he couldn't fight back. Couldn't even properly defend himself, lest he wanted to end their encounter with a bloody nose and a splitting migraine. Often times, though, he'd offer up a response. Maybe a witty comeback. A dig at her boy toy or overly-clingy friends. She'd get all uppity and thin-lipped and pissed off and before he knew it, they'd be kissing. Simple as that. Quick as that.
There were, of course, different proceeding scenarios to follow-up what usually counted as foreplay. Different things, different levels of wrong.
First was always, Spike: Take What I Want, When I Want It, How I Want It. That one pretty much consisted of him pounding the Slayer into oblivion, mind on one thing and one thing only: getting off. Admittedly, it was without poetry, but what it lacked in that department it more than made up in perversion.
Maybe the Slayer was near-dead, her life mostly pooled out onto the ground below in her own wet puddles of blood, but still warm enough to make him burn from the outside in. Like a limp doll. Broken and bruised and something Dru would have wanted to play with afterwards.
Maybe he'd have her conscious, kicking and screaming and pushing at his chest with tiny, useless hands to try and bat him away, hollering up a storm. He'd laugh in her face and hold her down, cover her completely.
The notched up version was the Slayer being a willing participant. Little Buffy in his mind was an eager playmate. But, oh, never would she actually voice that admission. Not even in his most blissful of fantasies. She would defend, deny, sputter 'til her last gasping breath that she'd never willingly be there, but'd be moving under him just the same.
Little bit on the contradictory side, the Slayer. Not that he minded.
Sometimes, Spike liked to play it indifferent. That one worked him up the most. And, yeah, the Big Bad had a soft spot for playing the submissive and corruptible. Liked to work it in his minds eye that the Slayer was the one bothered by all this animalistic lust. That it was her who couldn't get enough of him. He was in her system, not the other way around. Liked to play it where he didn't want it. Couldn't want it, not in a dozen different lifetimes. Wouldn't stop the Slayer though, because she wanted it. Wanted him. Would make him want her back, too, no matter the time it took to convince.
Which... never actually took all that long, but that's beside the point.
Resistance only made him harder.
Fight the attraction. Fight it because it's wrong. Slayer here, remember? Killer of your kind? You don't see the lions offering up a cozy comfort fuck to the gazelle right before it tears its throat out, do you? Hell no. Don't let the little temptress tear you down. It's probably a trick, anyway. The Slayer wouldn't want you like that. Couldn't ever want you like that, because she's a stuck-up, prissy, holier-than-thou bitch with a soft spot for souled poofters.
But she does, she does, and fuck if he doesn't want her, too.
If she dared to kiss his lips, would he snap back? Backhand her and humiliate her for the effort? Or would he let her? Just to see what it's like. How it feels. To know what her lips sliding against his, without the freeings of a spell-gone-wrong, does to his gut. If it makes that sodding pathetic fluttering sensation go away, or if it only makes it worse. Besides, it's only a kiss. Just one taste. What would happen if he let her and those arms of hers, deadly weapons all on their own, snaked their way around his neck to pull him closer, some mock attempt at a lover's embrace? Would he want it?
Hell, he always wanted it. Even if he started out his fantasies playing careless and indifferent, it'd only spiral quickly into him fully responding. The bitch wanted to play? Oh, he'd play. He'd make her cry, make her scream, make her beg for more. Or to stop. And, fuck, the begging. That was another favorite. Bitchy the Vampire Slayer, on her knees, begging for him.
"What do you want, Slayer? Tell me what you want."
"Spike."
Yeah, she'd say his name. Only... less straight-forward like that, more... breathless. Little whisper of his name dancing past her lips, this warm whimper of voiced desire. Low and womanly--
"Spike!"
Oh, hell. Spike spun around, thrust back into the coldness of reality, only to be assaulted by the very Slayer of his current wishful thinking. Scratch that--make that the very pissed off Slayer of his idiotic, pathetic, the-Poof-would-be-proud nancy boy dreams.
Her eyes were wide, her hands folded across her chest in that I mean business position that sent a pretty clear message: piss me off in any small way, and prepare to fit into one economy-sized ashtray. "What the hell are you doing?" she asked, carefully, speaking each word like she had to wait and give it enough time for them to gain and carry the proper amount of anger past her lips and out of her mouth. "Again? In my yard? And don't give me that 'just passing through' crap."
"Right." Spike faltered. Not his bloody fault! One minute the Slayer's tucked upstairs in her bed, doing he-didn't-even-want-to-know-what with the toy solider, and the next she's standing there, in the bloody flesh in front of him, livid and unhappy and looking, for the most part, entirely beautiful. And when in the great hell did he start thinking of the Slayer as looking beautiful? Snack-worthy, yeah, maybe cute in an awkward, 'Is your nose supposed to have that bump?' kind of way... but beautiful?
That was just sad.
Her eyebrows rose impatiently, her foot all but tapping. "Well?"
No time like the present time for some damage control, Spike figured. Thinking he could still walk away from this encounter with at least all of his limbs still properly attached and accounted for, he struggled for a reply, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. "There was a vampire!"
That sounded legit enough. Perfectly passable as an excuse and everything.
"A vampire?"
Evidently it wasn't passable enough. The Slayer's eyebrows had practically leapt off her forehead, her words sounding more like a patronizing, That's the answer you're going with? Seriously? than the ones they actually were.
"Uh, in the cemetery," he insisted, hell knows why, because he could almost literally feel his dick shrinking in the process. Emasculation by interrogation, Slayer-style, currently in effect--which is why he lamely, and more than a little pathetically, sputtered on. "Whole lot of them. Nasty buggers, all... swearing vengeance and Hell on Earth. I thought you might want to know."
The Slayer looked convinced... not at all. "Uh huh," she drawled, and by then her mouth was nearly hanging open in incredulity. She whipped her hair behind her shoulders, and he could see the milky white spot of flesh it revealed at the cross between her neck and collarbone. "And you've, what? Suddenly come over all whistleblower to the Undead?"
Quick as it'd come, Spike's good mood evaporated. It shifted instantly into a more familiar state of anger, one that was a combination of his genuine frustration with Buffy, and hurt at being so flippantly disregarded. They'd known each other for sodding years, and he has to, what? Have a solid excuse to stop by? Come by invitation only?
"Fine," he growled, and in a flurry of rustling, vintage leather, stormed past her. "Suit yourself."
"Stay off my lawn!" she yelled after his retreating form, whirling around to watch him go. "I mean it, Spike! Stay away from my house!"
"Gladly!" he shouted over his shoulder, not bothering to spare her an exiting glance.
Stupid bloody bitch with her pretentious set of rules and that ability to piss him off, no matter the size of the occasion. Stay off her lawn. Hah. Like he needed to be told that? It's not like he wanted to be there. Not like he needed to, either...
Bloody hell.
With a determined air, Spike slammed on the brakes. He spun back around just in time to catch the short, fading glimpse of Buffy sneaking back into her house. And then, just to prove that he was a self-built, fuck-all Bad Ass who didn't take orders from the local cast-out, reject of a high school cheerleader, he made his way back onto the very lawn from which he was just banished. Settled himself right back up against that big tree, the one with a groove that fit him nicely, got himself right cozy, and lit up.
His gaze went upwards, where he could now see her shadow moving behind the curtains of her bedroom window. Like the flame of a candle, it flickered to and fro in the dim light of whatever nightlight she'd switched on, dancing side to side with her movement. Another larger, more bulky and rectangular-shaped shadow joined her, and the two silhouettes, after a moment, embraced.
Still, Spike watched, even as the embrace became something more than the calming hug that it'd probably started out as. Buffy, her shadow, lifted her arms, and the soldier pulled her blouse up and over her head. They sweetly kissed, as Spike blew out a deep, seething breath, a cloud of cigarette smoke pouring out of his mouth with that effort.
The light upstairs turned off and still Spike stared.
He started to imagine what was playing out in the house above him, but he'd long since pushed the soldier out of the picture. Instead it was him, and it was Buffy, and in his more twisted of fantasies, there they were together on the Slayer's pink, flowery bed sheets, in her little girl bed with kid sis and her unsuspecting mum fast asleep just down the hall. And him and the Slayer, who in this version he called Buffy, out loud, in soft, intimate whispers that were meant just for her, didn't fuck. Didn't shag or screw each other silly. This version, the two of them, they moved together slowly, wholly, worshiping each other with gentle caresses and long, languid kisses that made the both of them gasp for air, or short, open-mouthed ones that promised of more.
It was soft and tender and it stretched on until they were both satiated, until they were both too tired to move. And in the end, long after the sweat and slickness on their bodies had dried, when they weren't as exhausted, she didn't push him out of bed, sheets pulled haughtily up to her chin to cover all of her naughty parts. And he didn't tear her throat out and drain her dry, didn't snap her neck and leave her laying there, wet from him, naked and flushed, a lifeless trophy for her family to find, for her friends to see. In the end, he kissed her on the head, lovingly, like he'd done every night to Dru after long hours of bloodshed and frantic, needy sex. And Buffy, his girl, she'd smile in content and curl up in his arms and drift off to sleep.
Off to the right, somewhere behind him, a car alarm blared, drawing him back to reality.
Spike blew out another smoke-filled breath, then flicked the cigarette stub onto the ground below before stomping it out. Another late night souvenir to add to the growing collection of others. He gave one last look at the darkened bedroom window, white hot anger running through his veins while self-disgust churned in his stomach, before pushing off the tree.
In the end, that fantasy, that sick twist of perversion, was the one that unsettled him the most. Fucking and fighting and finding Buffy attractive all fell into the realm of normalcy; him having just the right kind of sense of humor to appreciate the fact that he'd happily shag the Slayer well into the next century, given the opportunity. Passion and lust bordered along the lines of hatred and disgust. Blur the lines a bit, and everything turns a dark sort of gray.
But he wasn't just thinking of emotionless, impersonal fucks, and it wasn't always about introducing the bratty, uptight Slayer to a whole new level of pleasure and indecency.
Something cold and heavy sat in his gut... ticking away like a time bomb... ready to go off at any minute, and he could feel it with each new step, with each new breath.
"You're all covered with her. I look at you... all I see is the Slayer."
Spike swallowed the emotions that lumped in his throat.
Dru was wrong. She was wrong.
squawks
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!