main character: Spike thinking about Buffy
disclaimer: I do not own any characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Lyrics are from the song 'She Hates me' by Puddle of Mudd.
distribution: Wic, Bite Me, WLS, Quick-Fics, Paula - anyone else ask.
note: set in the middle of season 5 (may be semi-AU) during the Spuffy badness.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Spike sat in his crypt, bottle of whiskey in one hand, a long scarf clenched in the other. He'd tried talking to Buffy earlier that night, tried to show her how much of a miserable wretch her soldier boy was, how Finn was unworthy of her. Honestly, he'd been hoping that she'd see him, think about giving him a chance.
After all, she was beautiful, confident, and killed things frequently. All in all, damn near his perfect woman. He could work around her hang up over his Sire, he'd had a lot of practice with that sort of thing. Granted, the fact that she was the Slayer meant that he should use a certain amount of caution, compounded by his chip, but Spike had always enjoyed a challenge. Thrived on opposition and challenge, in fact.
It hadn't worked. Plain and simple fact was that he'd offered her anything,
himself, the cold passion of a vampire, and his eternal devotion only to
have her fling it back in his face. She'd called him disgusting, said he
was a heartless thing, said he was beneath her. The words had burned worse
than Holy Water. He'd opened himself, exposed his emotions, only to have
them flung back at him.
Met
a girl, thought she was grand
Fell
in love, found out first hand
Went
well for a week or two
Then
it all came unglued
The song came on the radio, guitars and drums catching his attention. He almost changed the station, not wanting to hear about anyone being all happy and cheerful with the girl they wanted. Then, he paid a bit more attention to the actual words. He leaned back with a bitter smile, swallowing from his bottle.
He'd been Dru's for a century, giving her anything and everything, bowing to her every whim.
Foolishly, he'd assumed that if he proved his sincerity, proved that
he could be there for her, Buffy would accept him. Let him into her life
like she had his Sire. Maybe permitted herself to care about him.
In
a trapp trip I can't grip
Never
thought I'd be the one who'd slip
Then
I started to realize
I
was living one big lie
He'd deluded himself.
Buffy had made things perfectly clear tonight. He would never be a real person to her, never be a man instead of a monster. Never have a chance to win her affections. She considered him a vile, evil thing, something to despise and abuse.
He'd been unable to change that idea. Not by revealing Captain Cardboard's nasty little side habit, or by helping her kill any sort of demon and even helping kill vampires. It hadn't mattered to her that Joyce liked him, considered him to be a fairly nice young man. Not even his revelations of his mortal life, one of his most carefully guarded secrets, had been enough to make Buffy see him as a person.
If that hadn't done it, then nothing would. He would never be more than
a monster to her. She would never get the same misty eyed look thinking
of him that she got when thinking of Angel. Never have a soft little smile
when she gazed at him.
She
fucking hates me
Trust
She
fucking hates me
La
la la love
I
tried too hard
And
she tore my feelings like I had none
And
ripped them away
It would have been bad enough if she'd just rejected him. Just said that she didn't want him, that he didn't appeal to her. If it was a simple question of he wasn't the right sort of man for her. But that hadn't been what she'd done. She'd ripped his heart to shreds, figuratively speaking. Rejected the idea that he was even capable of feelings.
He'd worked so hard, spent all that time and effort trying to make her see that he wasn't just a set of fangs, that he was more than a killer. He'd done everything but write the girl poetry, for Christ's sake!
Every time she'd given any acknowledgement of his actions it was to
belittle him. To berate his past, to mock his Dark Princess, to torment
him about the chip. To constantly try to dehumanize him, in her mind and
that of everybody around her. To make certain that everyone else saw him
as no more than a 'soulless thing' just like she did.
She
was queen for about an hour
After
that shit got sour
She
took all I ever had
No
sign of guilt
No
feeling of bad, no
While he might have been Love's Bitch, he wasn't an idiot. He'd never been an idiot, just blinded by things - naievite, obsession,and impatience.
Chasing after Buffy would get him nothing, and could cost him everything. He'd already lost hope, pride, and reputation. She would take any service he'd offer, and still treat him life something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. It was a loosing situation all the way around.
Why had he persisted? Why had he kept chasing her, even though the signs
had been there before tonight?
That's
my story, as you see
Learned
my lesson and so did she
Now
it's over and i'm glad
'Cause
i'm a fool for all i've said
Growling, he hurled the bottle against the wall of his crypt. He dropped the scarf on the puddle of whiskey and shards of glass as well, before dragging up his purloined pictures, ripping them into pieces and dropping those over the scarf. He poured some more alcohol over the mass, and dropped a lit cigarette on the whole mess.
Laughing, he watched the bright blue and golden flames flare up, dancing high in the air as they licked at the pictures, the images darkening and curling from the heat. The scarf caught fire first, the delicate pinks momentarily turning a glowing orange before the fragile threads vanished, consumed by the fire.
She hated him. Thought he was a monster. Well, if he couldn’t have her love, might as well have her hatred. It was still a lot better than nothing.
End