Eighteen: A Place Where He Belongs - Part Two

By Annie

2003-04-11

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3.40 p.m.

"I don't have time for you," she stated and he cocked an eyebrow as she made a move as though she was about to leave.

She paused herself at the sight of that small gesture, putting on a quizzical expression.

"YOU don't have time for ME?" he asked and she raised both eyebrows before she nodded. "Lest you've bloody forgotten, PRECIOUS, YOU were the one who invaded MY space not even half an hour earlier screaming at me about something I didn't even DO!"

"You didn't say those things to try and make me not trust my boyfriend?" she asked back and he tilted his head to one side as his gaze grew searching.

Then he shrugged.

"I said those things 'cause I thought they would apply, Slayer. As pointed out: I'm just so happy for the two of you I can't bloody see straight. WHY would I ever wanna come between you?" he replied and she stared at him.

"Every time you say that word you send shivers of real, tangible discomfort down my spine," she said and he blinked.

"What? 'Between'?" he wondered and she glared at him.

"No, 'happy'," she then spat and he smirked.

"What now? You don't believe me?" he asked and she shook her head at that question, it was too ridiculous.

"All I'm saying is that I don't want you to come near me OR anyone I know, understand?"

"No, YOU need to sodding understand something here," he shot, taking a step forward and she grew slightly rigid, but held her ground. "I don't take orders from anybody and especially not from YOU; I believe we've already had that part of this discussion. Here, however, is a new one: I don't wanna see you either, despite whatever idea you might've gotten into that pretty little head of yours. So keep yourself the hell away from me and I'm sure we'll do fine on the not-meeting-and-greeting-the-head-off-each other bit."

She huffed.

"Sound like a VERY good plan," she muttered, turning and walking across the room toward the door.

He followed and she tried to shake the growing tingles, but the effort was for nothing and she drew a small breath as she reached her escape.

"So tell me," he stopped her just as she put her hand on the knob. She didn't want to look at him, but was too compelled to be able to stop herself and she turned her head to meet his gaze. "Have your heart or your will chosen him?"

She glared at the vampire before her, seethed over his consistent poking into her private life.

"I can't see how that's any of your business," she replied icily and he held her eyes with his as though it would enable him to read the true answer there. Rolling them at him she added: "I'm leaving."

As she opened the door he said:

"You want me, but you're too stubborn to admit it. Going to him only makes it worse, doesn't it? 'Cause being with him isn't like being with me and so you have to remember the loss of..."

"Shut up," she interrupted, voice lowered as she turned back to him. "If you don't stop it, I'll MAKE you stop and I can ASSURE you, it won't be at all pleasant."

He took a step back as she took one forward, though she could see on him just how little he was backing away out of self-preservation - he was toying with her again. That stupid, bleached, moronic, gleeful THING actually thought he had a hold on her!

"Or is it that darkness again, love? The one you can't handle?" he now inquired, lowering his voice as well and the low purr in the back of his throat made her shiver for all the wrong reasons as she kept glaring at him with her chest filling up with hate and lust.

I have to get out of here, she grumbled hazily in her head. I've been here before... I can't do this again.

"Is that why you don't come to me?" he wondered and she felt her heart beat increase at the silent calling in that sentence. "You think he can ever take you where I can take you? You think he'll EVER be enough?"

She bit her jaws together and forced herself out of growing blindness and into the place in which she found herself: standing before him, and practically handing him all the aces. She was not going to just lay down on her back for him like this. He was wrong, and it was time to kill off that attitude of his once and for all.

"Riley and I have something you'll never have," she replied and Spike eyed her with interest, waiting for her to continue. "Love," she added and the vampire's eyes grew a shade darker as anger seeped into his posture. "That's why I'll always pity you, Spike," she continued, quietly enjoying the way she was affecting him. "And that's why I can brush you off like the thorn in my side that you are," she finished, keeping eye contact for a second longer and then turning from him for the third time.

"You really are lost," he mumbled and she swirled back to face him.

"What?" she asked, tone sharp, and he was serious as he once again met her gaze.

"You think you know what you want, who you are, where you're bloody headed," he replied, taking a step forward and standing merely a few feet from her as he finished: "But I can see the turmoil in your eyes. You're not sure about anything, are you? How come I could sense that moment where you actually believed what I said about Riley? Every last part of you thought - for that one second - 'Of course'. And you're so bloody scared right now that you'll cling to whatever harbor is safest - and that'd be him. You are lost, Slayer."

Her eyes flashed with fury as she took a step closer to him.

"I'M lost?" she asked and then she put up her hands and pushed him backwards. "Look at YOU, you idiot!" she exclaimed. "You leave, you return, you leave, you return. You want Drusilla, the so-called queen of your misplaced heart and then you turn around and suddenly you want ME - the one person you KNOW can beat you down. Is that it, Spike? Is that the challenge? My strength matching yours in every single way, and don't look at me like that - you can't deny it. God, if anyone's lost here it's YOU! Poor Spikey, can't be human, can't be a vampire. Where the HELL do you fit in?"

The air vibrated with her words and then he moved before she could even react, grabbing her and lifting her. She drew a breath in surprise and then her back connected with the wall next to the door. Her hands were on his shoulders, his hands were at her sides as he pressed her up against the wall. Letting her slide down slightly he pushed his hips against hers and her eyes grew, turning them into his as he replied:

"Right here."

Her breathing was barely noticeable as she stared down at him. Their bodies tight against each other and their faces so close that he could feel the heat from her skin gently seep through the air to stroke itself against his coolness. He was aching, he knew she was too.

And then she moved her head forward, her lips meeting his and he closed his eyes at the same time she did, meeting her tongue with an eagerness that was violent in its hunger. It didn't matter, hers was the same and the kiss grew deeper as her hands slid into his hair.

Her legs were wrapped around his waist and the two forms, fitted into the other, were both grinding un-bashfully against each other as he leaned them against the wall.

He moved his mouth from hers to kiss his way down the side of her throat and her breathing was becoming harder the further down he went. He licked along her collarbone, creating a moan that rose out of her throat and he was inspired to move his hands from her waist and up under her sweater. Reaching her breasts he slipped his thumbs over her hardened nipples and with a small gasp she bent forward to catch his lips with hers again.

"I can smell him all over you," he murmured, mouth still to hers and she shook her head for him to not speak, deepening the kiss again. "It's driving me crazy," he grumbled, taking his lips from hers again and nibbling along her neckline.

Her hands moved and made him slide his own down her stomach to then stretch them up so that she could tug the T over his head. She silenced him with her expression as he moved back slightly and met her gaze. She looked pleading and about to break in two. He could scent her arousal and he could see her desire.

Moving forward he let his mouth crash onto hers and once more join them as he deepend the kiss roughly.

Her hands were greedily sliding over his chest and back, into his hair and down again; seemingly not sure where to place themselves, wanting to be everywhere at once.

This, you fool, a voice whispered in the back of his heart. This is where you belong.

He opened his eyes just as she moved her head down to place kisses along the side of his neck and over his shoulder.

No.

No, that couldn't be right. He couldn't...

Reaching out his right arm he grabbed the knob of the door and opened it, taking a step to the side so that he stood before it and then he pried her legs open with his hands. As her feet touched the floor she moved her head back, questioningly. He got her arms unwrapped as well and then had her take a step back and out through the door.

She was staring at him.

He was staring back.

And then he slammed the door shut in her face.

She gaped. Blinked. Tried to move, but couldn't. Tried to have words form on her tongue, they wouldn't. And then it washed over her. Realization. He had just done that with every ill intent in the book. He had just made her buckle again and by doing so proven that he was right, that she was wrong. He had let her have a taste and then yanked the bottle away from her, well, she wasn't one to stand thirsty and dumbfounded! If he thought that this was going to work, he was VERY mistaken.

What it had proven to her was that he was conceited, bad-mannered and...and...

Turning from the door she walked out through the front one and continued with swift steps on her way back to the college. She was so angry with him she wasn't sure if she'd be able to look at him EVER again. But most of all she was mad at herself. Furious with her lack of ever learning from previous experiences. Vampire - BAD. Vampire - BAD! Vampire - B-A-D! WHAT was so frickin' hard about that? Spike...double-bad. Triple-bad. Extremely, horribly, definitely bad. Killer. Had tried to do away with her a few more times than two and he still wanted her dead. All he wanted to do was have fun with her... throw dust in her eyes so she couldn't see and stretch out her head so she couldn't reason with herself. All he wanted to do was play with her in some mental game that made him feel important. At least in Spikerealm.

She was nothing to him, and he was absolutely nothing to her.

Over. Done. Finished. Never, ever, ever, ever again. She wouldn't even think of him. She wouldn't speak his name. In fact, from this moment he didn't exist.

She felt so...dirty. She felt so...

Storming up the stairs to the floor of her dorm room she threw the door open and walked inside. Closing it behind her harshly she turned around and met the questioning and rather surprised gaze of Riley.

"I thought..." she began, trailing off, and he nodded.

"I was... I came here 'cause I just didn't like the way we left things. I shouldn't 've stormed out like that, Buffy," he replied silently and she looked at him for a moment.

Moving up to him she wrapped her arms around his neck tightly and their lips met. She deepened the kiss immediately and Riley's eyes opened in wonderment. Pulling away slightly from her he looked down at her, still quizzical.

"Let's just make up," she murmured, kissing him again - this time even more roughly as her hands slid down over his chest before grabbing the hem of his sweat shirt and pulling it over his head.

The unsatisfied throb was picking up its original power within her and she needed it stilled. Once and for all she needed it quieted down. It shouldn't be there - not in connection to that loathed creature.

But you're kissing Riley, she told herself. This is Riley.

Of course it was.

His hands slid over her skin as he removed her sweater and she almost felt herself grow impatient at the soft caresses. And suddenly the warmth of those fingers turned cool, turned just a tad tougher, just slightly more demanding. She felt the temperature of her blood pump itself up and she relished in it.

No.

Riley.

Nodding a little to herself she once more found his mouth with her own.

Riley.

They were both naked by now, clothes peeled off and lying at their feet. Buffy's eyes were still closed, Riley's were open as he watched the play of emotions on her face. The anticipation. The obvious craving. She hadn't been like this before...

Still kissing, he moved her over to her bed and they sunk down onto it. Her thighs parting to fit him in between them and he moved his lips from hers, kissing the place between her breasts lovingly as he entered her.

Buffy felt her muscles spasm at the feeling. Felt her body take in the new sensation. He was moving within her and still she had trouble relaxing into it, enjoying the feel of him, reaching that high she so desperately needed.

And then there was the coolness again... That other skin, that other being. Filling her mind, as someone else filled her, and having her juices practically flow over as her mouth watered for the taste of him. Oh, she kissed him. She let him know what she wanted from him, what surged through her like a riptide - tearing through her veins and loins, legs and brain. Him. And his hands graced her, his touch, his lips on her skin...

She moaned.

Her fingers sliding into his hair, feeling the softness of those bleached locks between them and then helping herself to fistfuls of them.

Yes, she was getting closer now... She was quivering beneath him. Exposed. Frail. And he was the same way before her. Naked. Bare. No more masks, no more games, no more lies. Just this moment, them as one...

"Buffy," he murmured.

She reached up and grabbed at the bedspread, tilting her head back.

Closer now...

"Spike," she gasped, feeling the pleasure rise and then slowly die without ever filling her as the motion of her lover came to a stop.

She slowly opened her eyes, at first disoriented and disappointed - wondering what had prompted this abruption. And then the fact came to her like a soft summer's breeze, gentle with its cruel truth and she moved her head to meet the narrowed eyes of Riley.

"What...did you say?" he asked, pulling out of her as he moved away from her and her eyes grew as she slowly sat herself up, reaching out her hands to both sides and grabbing the bedspread to wrap it around herself as he took a step away from the bed.

The shocked questions in his gaze, the mournful accusations... It was awful to see and she swallowed.

She hadn't. She couldn't have.

There was no possible way that she had just thought about that hateful fiend while making love to this incredible man before her. No.

But she knew that she just had.

"Riley," she practically whispered and his eyes grew hard as he reached down and snatched his pants up from the floor.

Pulling them on he buttoned them and then faced her again.

"Spike?" he asked, voice cold and she swallowed again.

"I didn't..." she began. "I wasn't... He's just been on my mind 'cause..."

"Buffy," Riley interrupted with a shake of the head. "Spare me. I've made love to you before. You weren't like... that," he added and she averted her gaze. "Have you been sleeping with him?" he asked and she turned her head back to him with a small shake of it as an answer. "Have you wanted to?"

She bit her jaws together and the look on her face seemed to indicate something since he quickly added:

"I really don't wanna know."

"Riley," she tried again but he bent down and got his other clothes off the floor, bundling them up in his arms as he looked at her once more.

"I don't think I wanna be around you for a while," he murmured and she stared at him, then followed his movements with her gaze as he quietly exited the room.

She threw herself backwards onto the bed and then rolled over onto her stomach and screamed into the mattress for all that she was worth.

***

4.19 p.m.

Spike moved cautiously back and forth over the floor of the crypt. His pacing was soundless, though his thoughts screamed in his head - making it impossible for him to determine which one was important, which one was not. It was getting on his nerves, though somewhere something told him he needed to keep his calm. Calm?! He had none left.

Nothing could have prepared him for this. He wished something had. Now it was too much, and he was doomed. The shock he felt was overpowered only by the confusion as to how exactly it had come to this. When?

'When I look at you... all I see is...'

He stopped that thought fiercely and with a growl he chopped it into little pieces which weren't very hard to dispose of. He tossed them around the room and watched them crawl in fear into the deepening shadows of the corners.

It was impossible.

There was no way that he, for that long, had been moving back to this place, to her. That he somewhere - in the unexplored territories of his mind - had been striving for that moment, when she let him close enough to actually touch her, for years. That he had been grasping for it from that first moment...

He had known that night in the basement just how much she had nestled herself into the part of the core of him that was red from desire, and she had been there from the very first moment that he saw her. That night he had known it for certain and it had made the experience that much sweeter - to finally take what he had craved for so long.

But now...

He could leave. He could just pack up and leave straight away. No looking back, just like he had said. The thing screwing him up would sooner or later be just another solved enigma - he was confident of that. Perhaps it would take him slightly longer to, but soon enough he would hold the answer and once more he'd be set free. He didn't need to stay in this damned town a second longer.

Unless...

He bit his jaws together.

Unless he wanted to. Unless the thought of leaving made him feel weak and unimportant and as though nothing mattered. Unless the knowledge of - if he were to leave - he would never see her again. Not ever. She'd probably end up marrying the sodding soldier boy and...

He closed his eyes at the wave of sickness rising bitterly in the back of his throat at the mere insinuation.

"Bloody hell, Slayer," he murmured, opening his eyes and resting them on the still closed door - knowing that she had left in anger and feeling how that emotion battled with the rest of his own beneath his chest. "What have you done to me?" he asked the quiet; the question drifting into space - which had no answer to send back.

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Nineteen: Clash

By Annie

2003-04-13

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Day Thirteen.

0.35 a.m.

Why was this happening?

She had asked herself that question in a variety of different emotional states this late afternoon and as it had slipped into evening and further into night she had still found no answer to tell herself. The void refused to give it and she refused to ask anything else, or anyone else...

Right now she was in a place of something very near relaxation and she was struggling to keep herself there so that she could finally fall asleep. With some rest in her perhaps this would begin to make sense - this, whatever it was.

What was it?

Wonderful, another question. And did she have an answer?

With a low huff she sat up and threw her covers off. Looking around at the people sleeping comfortably - and some not so comfortably - in Xander's basement she then slowly scooted to the edge of the sofa-bed and got off it.

"Can't sleep?" Willow whispered from her spot on the piece of furniture and Buffy spun around.

Willow looked at her, quizzical. This was the second time she felt as though she caught the Slayer doing something the latter didn't feel as though she should be doing, and Willow wondered why that was. Because what could Buffy possibly be doing that she might fear her friends disapproval of?

"No," the blonde now replied in a hushed voice, then she smiled a little. "I'll go out on a late night patrol. Get some of the tension off," she added and Willow nodded that she understood - though she rather didn't.

But then, I'm not her, she thought to herself as she closed her eyes again.

Buffy pulled on a pair of sweats and a black sweater, getting her hair out of her face by way of a ponytail she took another look around the room and then left it silently. The streets were quiet and deserted, as usual. After twelve patrolling was usually about sweeping the town, if she happened to stumble on a vamp feeding she got rid of it. If she happened to trip over a vampire taking a stroll, she got rid of it. But usually there weren't any saves. The vamps had hunted and now they were either filling up on the prey or... Actually she had no idea what else they did with their time.

She didn't care either.

Walking passed the Bronze she stopped for a second, finding herself in an alley that had seen its share of violence and death. It had also seen the first encounter she had ever had with...

And we're walking, we're walking, she grumbled in her head, continuing briskly on her way.

Reaching the fifth cemetery of Sunnydale she entered it and slowed down to a stop. Something was off. Turning around slowly she met the grinning fangs of a large vampire, standing ten or so feet away from her and she cocked an eyebrow.

"This is where you say 'Slayer'," she remarked and the vamp's grin widened - if that was un-humanly possible.

"So you're her?" it asked and she rolled her eyes, bringing her stake out.

"Been looking for me?" she wondered and it nodded as it slowly began to circle her. "Well, now what? I run screaming in sight of your masculine and monster-like power?"

The vamp laughed. It was loud and shrill and insane.

"Whoever had the bad taste of turning YOU?" she now asked and the vamp turned its yellow eyes in hers as it merely smiled at her again.

"I believe this is where we fight to the death," it mumbled, giggling to itself and she stared at it.

This was sort of new.

"Should we count to three?" she asked sarcastically and the vamp's face turned menacing as it stopped, holding her gaze.

"Three," it said and moved forward.

She ducked as it swung out an arm and then she put a hook of her right arm into its stomach. She didn't even get a huff out of him and her eyes grew slightly as it reached down to grab her shoulders. Rolling onto her back on the ground she got away from it and quickly flipped herself to her feet, turning to face it.

"I believe you lost something," it remarked, nodding to the ground at its feet and Buffy stared at her weapon.

A rush of panic rose in her and then she fought it back, getting into a fighting stance as she raised her head to meet its eyes with her own.

"Not at all," she replied and once again it giggled.

She fought the shiver of discomfort as it approached her cautiously. She got herself moving and met it halfway. Delivering hard blows to its face she made it take a few steps back. She felt she had the upper hand and got ready to swirl around, wanting to get in a kick so that she could get it away from the place where her stake lie waiting, but in that split second of steadying herself it saw its chance and it took it.

Its hands closed around her throat and her eyes grew wide with surprise as it lifted her off the ground.

"To the...death," it hissed as it bore down harder on her fragile airways and she saw glimmering dots before her eyes as she tried to claw the vampire's hands open.

And then she suddenly hit the ground with a low thud. Drawing deep breaths she began to try and stand up, the world swirling around her and she stumbled back down onto her knees, both hands at her aching throat as she raised her head to try and locate the enemy. Her eyes caught the shape of it right before it turned into a cloud of ashes and she leaned forward, beginning to be able to breathe a bit more easily she took in the sweetness of grass and earth beneath her, filling her lungs gratefully.

Someone kneeled beside her. She could smell leather; and that husky, undefined, underlying scent that was his and nobody else's. His hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up to face him. She didn't want to. She kept her eyes closed.

"What the bloody hell were you thinking?" he asked and at that she opened her eyes to glare at him.

"Don't touch me," she said, shaking his hands off her and with effort getting into a standing position.

He did as well, facing her.

"Where's your stake?" he asked and she bit her jaws together.

"I can kill without help," she growled and he wasn't sure whether she meant the help of a weapon or the help of him - she wasn't either.

"The stubborn streak - sodding splendid. Just what I need," he muttered and she shook her head at him. "I just saved your life!" he then exclaimed. "Again," he added and she raised her eyebrows.

"The first time you didn't save it," she then remarked and he tilted his head a little to one side, questioningly. "You just kept it from being spent in prison," she added and he cocked an eyebrow.

He just saved my life. He just saved my life.

The sentence wouldn't stop repeating and she felt her heart pounding in her chest as she stared at him. It had been pounding through the whole incident though, and so she felt rather secure in the assumption of him not reading anything at all into it.

But... why had he?

"Why didn't you let him finish the job?" she asked as casually as she could, clearing her throat as her voice was slightly coarse. "I thought you'd be sitting on a tombstone with popcorn and hands ready to applaud," she added and Spike couldn't help but smirk at that, then he grew serious and something in his expression made a well-known swirl appear in the pit of her stomach. "Never mind," she hurried herself to say, walking up to the fallen hero of carved wood and picking it up to tuck it back into its place before glancing at the vamp.

He wasn't looking at her. He looked thoughtful as he stared at a spot somewhere in the grass before him. His shoulders were slumped and his brow furrowed. And then he looked up, meeting her eyes with his and holding her gaze.

Finally she averted hers.

"I can't do this," she mumbled, more to herself than for him to hear, but he did and as she turned to leave he stopped her by asking:

"What can't you do?"

She shook her head.

"Nothing, let's just...not..." trailing off she took another step, but he had moved forward and now one of his hands closed around her left arm, spinning her around to face him.

"What can't you bloody do?!" he demanded and she tore loose, taking a step back.

"This!" she exclaimed. "I can't DO this, Spike!"

"And what the hell are you doing? What is it you're walking away from?" he inquired and she shook her head again.

"Stop it," she murmured through clenched teeth.

"I won't ever stop it until you TELL me!" he stated as she backed away from him.

Turning she began to walk. He followed.

"What do you wanna hear?!" she yelled, swirling back and facing him. "That I'm sorry about what happened? I am! More sorry than I've been in my entire life! It shouldn't have been allowed to take place between us! It was the hugest mistake I've ever made and believe me - it won't happen again. Not ever."

He sucked his cheeks in as he observed her skeptically and she let hear a small growl of impatience before she turned from him and started up the walking once more. And once more he followed like a tail, like a dog on a leash, like a shadow.

"Are you blind, deaf AND dumb?!" she burst out, glaring at him as she kept walking. "What I'm walking away from is YOU, only it doesn't work if you keep tripping over my heels - so STAY!"

He grabbed her arm again, this time his grip was extremely hard and she gasped as fingers of pain spread underneath her skin. Looking up at him she could see he wasn't having the time of his life either as the bond in his head tugged at him, and he slowly eased up his hold on her, though he wouldn't let her go and she clenched her jaws together as she met his gaze.

"I'm not some housebroken puppy. You may think me an animal, Slayer - I've thought myself that way too many times to give a damn - but if you think for one bloody second that I'm tamed you'd better be very sure... Or one day I'll prove you very wrong," he warned, voice low with threat and she glared at him.

"'Puppy'?" she then asked, giving his hand still around her arm a look before she rested her eyes in his again. "No," she added as he let her go. "I'd never think of you as anything lovable, Spike."

He beat back the wave of weakening pain that he actually felt at hearing her utter those words with a serenity of which her eyes proclaimed every ounce. He couldn't understand how he in one moment didn't want anything else than to be close to her in any way possible, and in the next he couldn't stand the sight of her and regretted ever stopping her on-the- threshold-standing-about-to-be-let-in death which had nearly enough stepped right onto her.

"You know?" she now said, crossing her arms over her chest and letting her gaze drift down over his form as though she was studying a bit of rock. "If you want me to feel actual fear when you try to threaten me you really oughta think twice about - oh, I dunno - jumping in in the knick of time to save my ass from being whopped and all that... It really messes up your image."

"But it's sucha delicious part of you," he replied with a sudden smirk and a sarcastic glitter in his blue eyes which had her remembering how he had gotten to her in the first place. "Without it I'm not sure I'd be this...hot when I'm supposed to be cold - and all that," he added, taking a step closer to her and she felt how she turned stiff with anticipation for his fingertips to grant her skin his touch.

Then she pulled out of it and shook her head as she took two steps back.

"This is..." she began, trailing off as she couldn't finish the sentence.

She wasn't even sure why she had started it. But something gleamed in the depths of his eyes and she couldn't interpret it; then he asked:

"What is this?"

She blinked. That question had haunted her since she left Xander's - but as she heard it formed over the vampire's lips she realized it had been with her for a lot longer than that. And she still had no answer to give neither herself nor him.

"What do you want from me?" she mumbled, shaking her head again. "Whatever it is, I can't give it. I won't."

"Which is it?" he wondered quietly. "You can't or you won't? You can't 'cause of who you are, or you won't 'cause of who you think you are? What do you want from ME, Slayer? What do you really want?"

"I want this to end," she replied.

"You want what to end?" he inquired. "One night and a few kisses?" He huffed, a condescending smile forming on his lips as he observed her eyes widening, hardening. "You gave yourself to me like it was the sodding easiest thing you ever did... Frankly, Slayer... I lost my interest right then and there." She moved forward with a snarl of fury, thrusting her hands upward to punch him in the face, but he caught her by the wrists, twisted her arms back behind her and pulled her to him instead - having her face just below his he continued: "What you can't come to terms with is how this, right here, makes you feel. How every nerve is on edge... how you have to get closer... how much you want this."

"Let me go!" she demanded, squirming as she tried to make him do what she asked and merely receiving a smile in return.

"I'll interpret that..." he murmured, moving his head forward and catching her mouth with his.

She tried to fend him off. She pressed her lips together, she bucked out and away from him, she struggled to turn her head away. But then his tongue somehow brushed her lips in some way that made them lose connection with her brain and all the will in the world couldn't save her as he was able to deepen the kiss.

Damn! Once again he had succeeded to twirl her around so fast that she lost track of where she had started, lost track of for how long she had been spinning, until she wasn't sure it wasn't her who was actually standing still and the world itself that was blurring past her.

The unbelievable rush he instilled in her was beginning to coarse through her and she told herself that she wasn't enjoying it as much as she was. That she wasn't kissing him as hungrily as she was. That she wasn't responding to him in the way that she was.

Then she tore away from him with as much force as she thought was in her and she took a few steps back as he slowly opened his eyes to meet hers.

"Why did you shut the door in my FACE earlier?!" she exclaimed and he sighed.

"Yeah, about that..." he muttered, giving her a look and she raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah?!" she asked and he shrugged.

"I just... wasn't in the mood," he answered and her eyes grew huge. "I mean..." he tried, but she was already to angry to listen to anything else.

"You are just too much. You come here and you save my life and you throw lies in my face..."

"Lies?!" he asked and she nodded.

"You say you lost interest - but THAT, what you just did, that's not interest lost," she stated and he cocked an eyebrow. She ignored it. "And you think that I'll what?"

"Confess."

"Confess?! Confess to WHAT? That I want you?!" she raised her voice and he merely eyed her as she approached him, continuing: "I want you. I want you so badly it makes my skin crawl! All right?! Enough of a confession for you? Happy now?"

"You wanna make me happy?" he asked, small smile on his lips and she pushed him backwards with another growl of anger.

"You always do that," she replied. "You never listen, you only hear what you wanna hear and nothing else. You put words in my mouth and thoughts in my head and I can't deal! Now, THIS I'm telling YOU - I want you, but I don't want to want you. I know this is all some kinda dance to you, but I never said yes to it. So this is me leaving."

"The dance floor?" he wondered wryly and she bit her jaws together before turning and walking away from him. "You know, it seems it doesn't matter how much you want me outta your life!" he called after her. "Our paths are just too...entwined!"

"Then take another route!" she yelled over her shoulder. "Mine's predestined!"

***

2.21 a.m.

She didn't want to want him? SHE didn't want to want HIM?! Did she for a moment think that he WANTED to want her? That he had wanted to have her on his mind every bloody second of the past two weeks?! Well, give or take a day or two...

No. He hadn't. He had never asked for this, never wished for this, never needed this to happen. Not once had he in his wildest dreams imagined himself wrapped up in her like this. And now...

Why didn't he listen?! Why hadn't he listened to that small, small voice that day in the basement - when this whole rollercoaster was set in motion - that had told him to hold back? It had told him with perfect clarity that if he didn't, he'd be lost.

He hated the fact that she was right - he was as lost as ever.

He despised the state he was in, the helplessness that came with it. There was nothing he could do to get it out of him and he knew it all too well, now that he could do nothing but admit it; admit the presence of something too strong inside of him. This emotion he harbored had always been traitorous, had always bloomed at precisely the wrong second in time. Had made him not be able to trust it or cherish it. He thought of it as cruel, unforgiving and most of all painful.

And now it was reaching for his heart again. He could feel the warm tips of its fingers as it got closer. Nothing. There was nothing he could do to avert this disaster. This pressing, earth-shattering apocalypse. His very own ending of his world. He could already feel the changes. They were starting to take place deep down within - shifting the structure of his outlook on the world.

Things could never just run smoothly, could they? Things always had to get messed up into complication, deeming them unrecognizable.

It was all her fault. It had to be. He needed somewhere to hang the coat of blame and her shoulders seemed as good a place as any. It was all her fault.

So where would he take this? Did he fight it until that bitter ending - or did he embrace it for what it was: inevitable?

Hate was so much simpler than this. Hate was raw and certain, it was something he could aim, it was dark - he could lean on it. But love...?

His eyes grew as he for the first time actually thought that word and everything in him wanted to cringe, but couldn't. Seeing her before him had him suddenly feel weak with defeat. Closing his eyes he let the image of her take all of the confusion away, all of the doubt and the sliver of regret.

How had it come to this? All these hours of nothing but battering each other, and this was what it came down to? For him... HOW the bleeding hell could he even...? But he did. He was falling head first, not a chance to catch himself and not a shred of hope in the world that she would.

This seemed to be his fate - unrequited love for all eternity.

He suddenly smiled to himself, opening his eyes and looking at the black TV- screen before him.

It was all too ironic. Laughable, even. The fact that Dru had known, so long ago... That she had pulled away from him because of it. It was all so clear now. Crystal thoughts piercing his mind.

I'll be damned if I ever tell her, he thought now, brushing the pictures of blonde locks and green eyes out of his head as he got to his feet. I can't ever tell her.

Perhaps in never doing so lie his salvation.

**************************************************************************** **************************************************************************** **************************************************************************** ******************
 

Twenty: When It Settles

By Annie

2003-04-15

****************************************************************************

Day Thirteen.

7.05 a.m.

Buffy watched the rather stupefying cartoon moving on the TV-screen. A bird making funny noises kept escaping a coyote that insistently pursued setting traps to ensnare or preferably kill it. She blinked. No, she wouldn't even pretend to acknowledge the analogy her head immediately made to the scenario.

Last night had been...last night. Today was a whole new day and she'd... keep trying to figure out exactly what she should do while she watched the coyote now dropping a huge wrecking-ball of some sort, in a ridiculously thin rope, from a board spanned over two sides of a steep valley. It was aimed to hit the approaching bird, which stopped short just a mere inch away from the spot where it would actually have been hit and the wrecking ball made a loop, coming back to hit the coyote hard over the head instead. Actually making the poor animal stick to it...

"That would never happen," she muttered, thinking of how The Coyote would probably just have ducked under its ugly, leather coat and slithered away...to conjure up some other way to get rid of the smart, fast, pretty and clever bird.

"Well, no, Buff," Willow replied. "That's why they call them cartoons - not documentaries," she added, turning her eyes from the screen and into her friend's with a meaningful look and Buffy sighed.

Anya - seated between the two on the sofa-bed - listened to the exchange and then joined the other two in turning their heads to the side of the TV as Giles came through the improvised wall located there - constructed out of blankets - separating the boys from the girls. He didn't look too keen.

"Must we have the noise? My head is splitting," he grumbled, turning the TV off and Willow smirked.

"Well, look who's Cranky Bear in the morning," she remarked wryly and he sighed, stopping as he was about to walk through the blankets again to turn back to them as he replied:

"Yes, well, I can't imagine why I didn't sleep well in my beach ball."

"Every time you moved it made squeaky noises," Anya remarked. "It was irritating," she added.

"Really?" he inquired. "I'm surprised you could hear it over your Vargnerian snoring."

"Okay, you guys! Could we not, please?" Buffy interrupted the bickering and they both cooled down as she added: "Everything's screwed up enough without you two doing Scenes From My Parents Marriage."

"Sorry," Anya apologized, voice low and looking rather sheepish.

"Sorry," Giles muttered back, disappearing through the blankets.

"Thank you," Buffy said, gratefully, and Willow looked at her for a moment before saying:

"It'll be okay, Buffy. Riley's just confused, that's all."

Buffy felt a twitch near her heart at that, then she smiled a small smile.

"I don't think so," she then replied.

After all, what was there to be confused about...? She felt so awful. She never would have hurt him like that unless Spike had gotten her all wound up and angry! Stupid bleach-head! It was all his fault!

"Of course that's how it is!" Willow assured, making Buffy pause as she had to remind herself that no, Willow hadn't just read her thoughts but was referring to the remaining topic of Riley, plus being seemingly set on supportive-friend mode. If she had only known. "I'm sure when he sees you it'll just... you know, boil over. He's in love with you! Then - what you do is - you forgive."

Buffy swallowed, her smile growing stale.

"Yeah. Right. Forgiveness. Big part of the relationship bit," she murmured, looking down on the green blanket splayed over her and Willow frowned.

"Is something bothering you?" she then asked and Buffy looked up, adopting an innocent expression.

"Why do you think something's bothering me?" she asked back and Willow raised her eyebrows.

"I dunno, the way you act? You're here and still you're not... What's on your mind, Buffy? I can tell it's not Riley 'cause the way you looked a week ago isn't how you look now. You don't have that starry eyed, floating- on-top-of-the-clouds look," she stated and Buffy bit her jaws together, sinking down slightly where she sat.

How had it come to this? A week ago...well, more like two weeks to her...she had been enjoying the fact that she was falling in love with a great guy. A human, pulse-possessing, all be it not completely average, yet very regular guy. And now...? She wasn't even sure anymore! How was that possible? She wasn't falling out of love, was she? That couldn't be! It was too new; to already be able to just break away from it seemed unthinkable.

"Hello?" Anya sing-songed and Buffy pulled out of her musings to look at her two friends.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I'm just... I don't know. Riley's whole world's just...falling apart," she added, growing self-conscious.

"Yeah, and with everything you went through with Angel," Anya chimed in. "You know, you really should get yourself a BORING boyfriend. Like Xander... You can't have Xander," she then added and stated, causing Buffy to smile slightly.

"That was the idea," she then agreed. "Riley was supposed to be mister Joe guy... Guess I'm not supposed to have one of those," she then muttered.

"Oh, no, Buffy," Willow disagreed. "Don't think like that. You'll... work things out," she once more put on the optimism-cap and Buffy met her gaze for a few seconds before she slowly replied:

"I'm not all that sure, Will. Things just aren't always as they seem and now... thing's 've changed."

Willow eyed her closely for a few dragged out seconds before remarking:

"You're so making no sense right now," and Buffy smiled meekly.

"Nothing makes any sense anymore," she then replied.

"So dump him," Anya spoke up, turning a warning gaze into the Slayer's as she added: "But you can't-have-Xander."

"I'll try and remember that," Buffy promised, closing her eyes and sinking back against the pillows.

And I don't think the decision of stay-together-or-no is up to me, she thought to herself. If there even is a question of that anymore...

And if he'd be willing to forgive, Buffy - what then? Is his forgiveness what you want?

She opened her eyes at that, staring up into the ceiling with a sinking feeling in her chest.

Of course it is, she then thought. I'll beg for it. I will.

Xander interrupted her thoughts by practically yelling for them to turn on the TV.

***

12.12 p.m.

Buffy slowly approached the place where the female news reporter had stated the body of a young boy had been found that very morning. Police cars and an ambulance cluttered the scene and she felt her heart beat heavily in her chest. With the guilt she felt as the Polgara demon for certain had been looking for her, and at the thought that what she considered her own sloppiness had caused the incident to ever take place.

A sloppiness that - if she hadn't let it slide, if she had listened to Giles' advice to be certain of what she was getting herself into when she grew more involved with the Initiative - wouldn't have been allowed to cloud her judgment. Concerning Maggie Walsh, concerning what the Initiative could possibly want with a live Polgara as apposed to a very much slain one. She felt like a fool.

She watched the ambulance crew as they worked and then she shook her head to herself. She felt alone, more than ever, and it was a burden around her neck as her heart seemed torn in two. One half instructed her to get her head back on straight and not let something so trivial as a few indiscretions ruin a future she knew she might still have with Riley. The other half merely laughed at that. Laughed so hard she thought she could feel it spill tears of blood into her veins and then - to prove its point - it merely produced the sensation of this blue-eyed demon's hands, his mouth, his body and being... How could something so wrong feel so right? When he touched her...

Demon. Demon, demon.

But sometimes the way he eyed her made her come close to blushing. His gaze could be much to gentle for a creature such as him, too inquisitive, too personal. And at times he brushed his lips against her as though he...felt more, needed more from her, had to dig deeper until he could grasp the same craving within her and pull it to the surface. He was hungry, eager, and yet tentative... No matter how hard he had tried to act as though he wasn't she had noticed how carefully he made sure that he gave as much as he took; that she received as much pleasure as she...

Buffy, she interrupted her thoughts. Focus on something else. Please!

She sighed.

What was she even thinking?

Turning - concluding that there was nothing for her at the site for now - she stopped short as she faced...

"Riley," she breathed and he observed her in tight silence before he nodded stiffly.

"Buffy," he then greeted.

"I saw - on the news..." she mumbled, gesturing to the spot behind her and he nodded again.

"I figured."

"The...the Polgara?" she asked, meeting his gaze hesitantly and he lifted one shoulder in a small shrug.

"We're not sure yet," he replied.

"Riley, I'm SO..."

"Listen, for now, let's not talk anything but work. We're both professionals, let's keep it at that," he interrupted her coldly and she frowned slightly before she nodded.

"All right," she agreed. "Well, the Polgara had the sort of skewer they mentioned. And..."

"Maggie's dead," he stated and she completely lost her track as she gaped up at him. "Happy now?" he added, looking away from her and she frowned deeper this time.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked. "How can you even ask me that?"

"She had it in for you. You're not relieved one more threat's off your back? Oh, right... that's where you prefer them," he shot and she blinked, taken off guard by his crudity.

"I guess I deserved that," she said, voice lowered. "And I have no defense so give me your best shot. But as you said - professionals," she added and he clenched his jaws together as he looked down at her. "It was the Polgara, wasn't it?" she asked and he seemed to give it some thought before he granted her a small nod as a reply. "I'm gonna find it," she stated. "I'm gonna find it, I'm gonna destroy it... and then you can stop asking me how 'happy' all this death makes me," she finished, giving him a hard look before she brushed passed him.

"Are you falling for him, Buffy?" he asked and she stopped, turning partially back to him with a rather shocked expression on her face. "Are we over?" he then added.

She stared at him for what seemed like a month cramped into a long moment before she answered:

"I don't know."

Turning away from him and continuing on her way he watched her as she went - wondering which question she had answered.

***

5.17 p.m.

She wasn't falling for him.

How could he even ASK her that? Her FALLING for that insufferable vampire? No.

She hadn't been able to shake the question all day and as she entered Willy's she looked around at the riffraff and low lives and almost wanted to smirk at Riley even for one second believing that she could ever stoop so low as to let herself fall for someone who wasn't even part of his own society's upper class. He was tough and rough. The muscle-for-hire kinda type. His schemes never came through. His goals were never reached. He was as pathetic as pathetic could be.

Oh, Buffy, stop, she sarcastically told herself, before you start feeling sorry for him.

Half an hour later she walked out, supporting Riley who had come close to shooting off his gun at an innocent and who was acting as though he had come down with something slightly worse than a mere touch of the flu - it seemed to be more like an invasion.

Comforting him tentatively and placing him on the sofa-bed of Xander's she walked through the blanketwall and had a small discussion with Giles and Xander. Soon her and the latter were headed for Initiative head quarters.

***

8.52 p.m.

She sauntered over the street leading to the fourth cemetery, her head heavy with thoughts of what information she had received - of what had taken place. Of what she had learned about Riley, that he was part of some experiment as well... And mostly of what she had found out about her newest Big Bad; also known as Adam. A Frankenstein's monster thrown into the happy mix of master vampires and lovers turned crazed killers and mayors going all Snake-Me-Out!

At least Riley was safe, for now. With people who could take care of him. Hopefully she would be able to untangle the messed up web, constructing her mind at the moment, by the time she faced him again.

Why had she given him that answer earlier? "I don't know." What had she meant by that? "Beg" had been the operative word that very morning and once she stood before the final decision she chose...? Why was she recoiling, backing away from happiness come easy? Served on a silver platter and having her name printed all over it...

Perhaps right there was her answer. In the question itself, grinning at her. What fun was there? What tension? What challenge in knowing the safety, the predictability with which his love carefully placed itself as a layer on top of her?

Something had broken through that layer. Something had turned it into mere strips flapping in the wind of this turmoil inside of her. And this something...

She hadn't gone on patrol to think about that something. She had gone out to clear her head, make the streets a tad safer and hopefully have some sort of plan ready by the time she returned to Xander's. Clear her head... And didn't that concept include cleaning out this dirty habit she was getting into of associating the smallest of things to a certain...something?

Cleaning? Exactly. Swoop-swoop-swoop with a large broom under the rug of her mind and gone that something was. No need to think about him ever again... Or it. Or... Darn.

"I'm totally freaking out here," she grumbled.

Like HE had said - "one night and a few kisses". WHAT was the big deal?

She stopped short as she looked up and met his gaze. Blinking, with the surprise sending scurrying bits of ice through her to collect in her stomach, she drew a small breath in order to steady herself again; looking closer at him where he stood in slight shadow and five feet away from her she noticed the still fresh bruises covering his face, his swollen lip, the blood trailing from a cut in his forehead and down the left side of his cheek.

She could see he had swiped at it, but the residue was cutting her eyes with its color and she clenched her jaws together at the small sting of sudden protectiveness rising in the pit of her stomach.

He huffed, then turned and began to walk away from her. She furrowed her brow, then slowly followed.

"You gonna tell me what happened?" she asked, catching up to him though he was still a few paces ahead and he stopped, shook his head and then turned back to her. "Who did that to you?" she added, her voice unsteady with growing uncertainty as he held her gaze firmly.

"You did," he then replied, turning and once more beginning to move.

She frowned again, and then followed, coming up to walk at his side.

"I object to that," she stated and he huffed for the second time.

"I'm so bloody shocked," he replied sarcastically and she grabbed the arm of his duster to make him stop and face her. He observed her for a few seconds then said: "You wanna know what happened? I got a good, clean ass- kicking session by some local bloody Hargorth demons 'cause YOU can't keep your face where it belongs - away from ANY bloody association with MINE!"

She stared at him at that. Baffled and offended and when he turned from her for the third time she wasn't late to follow.

"For your information," she said and he rolled his eyes to the sky as what he had anticipated commenced, "you can't blame ME for getting your ass kicked around by some Hogsworth demon..."

"Hargorth," he corrected, turning his head to her where she was keeping up with his pace at his right side and she glared at him.

"Do you mind?" she shot and he merely gave her a look, thus she continued: "You can't blame ME 'cause I'M not the one who encouraged you to go out and go all demon-killer-friendly, am I?!"

He glared at her, stopping again and she crossed her arms over her chest as she met his flaming gaze with her own not hesitant in its retaliation.

"But if you'd just kept yourself the hell away from my crypt perhaps..." he trailed off, finding his arguments completely worthless.

She had nothing to do with it. It was just easier being angry with her than have to fall back on that other feeling... Seeing her in such a different light was too strange, but having her in the flesh close enough to touch made the fact all that much steadier in his chest, and the anger poured out of him as though he had turned a faucet off and pulled the plug from the drain.

She was still looking at him, impatient and malevolent. Angried and mistrusting. But as his face slowly grew into that quizzical expression it had seemed to adopt on their last few encounters her eyes dropped the harshness as well. Unfolding her arms she sighed, shaking her head and looking away from him.

He clenched his jaws together, wanting so badly to reach out and feel her there that he made himself move away from her. She looked up just as he pushed the front door of his crypt open. She hadn't realized they were that close to it...or that she had been. Indecisive she stayed where she was for nearly two minutes. Something telling her to leave - and fast. Something else acknowledging the slender twirl of worry within her - though it wrote it off as a natural part of her humanity - and encouraging her to follow him.

Once the second minute was up she took the latter's advice and cautiously neared the entrance - the door still standing ajar and she slipped through it. The foyer was dark, but through the second door she could see the flickering light of a candle burning.

Throwing her last chance for retreat over her shoulder she stepped through the door and into the crypt.

 

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